Phantom's Play
by WhiteFangofWar
Summary: With L dead I thought I had won this game. But there's new player on the board now, who won't stop his plans until my Perfect World lies in ruin. - Set in the four year time skip after L's death. Rated for language.
1. Part 1 Impostor

**Disclaimer: Writer Tsugumi Ohba created Death Note and all characters involved. Some original characters created by me.**

**- - -**

**Prologue**

Under the God of the New World... life was still cheap.

This was one of among many observations broadcaster Genya Valgreen couldn't help but make as he made his way out of the studio where he'd just spent the past seven hours at work. Possessing little in the way of unique physical features with his trimmbed black hair and gray overcoat, no one paid the man any more attention than the rest of the men and women rushing through the throng to their cars. As if it were just the same, ordinary routine as they'd seen years before now.

_There is only one difference. _Genya mused, unable to deny the muttering disappointment he felt towards the majority of his colleagues. _Two years ago, we didn't focus on just one story. We covered sports, common interest, economic figures..._

But as his boss said, the ratings didn't lie. They'd still do those things, still cut away to weather and disasters and foreign aid. But no one _cared_. There was only one story that everyone wanted to hear: _KIRA. _The anonymus murderer who had proclaimed himself a new God in-between killing over half Japan's criminals, causing heart attacks _without touching them_.

Genya sighed. He still felt the need to stop and examine that for a second every time it came to mind. Surely there was something forensics had missed. Surely there was some real, factual way that 'Kira' had killed his hundreds of victims. Surely this couldn't be the power of a real, actual 'God'.

Could it?

Didn't matter. God or not, everyone wanted up-to-date televised info on the most baffling case the police force had ever encountered. When would Kira's next voice-distorted message arrive and spur his growing number of followers to new courses of action? Which criminals would die next? What was God's will? These were things Genya had never even dreamed of having to announce on live television, locked up there with news about Leprechauns or real-live Kaiju. Supernatural foofah meant to lure the weak-minded. Tabloid trash.

Genya snorted. Kira couldn't be 'God'. It was impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, if he valued his employment, his career, his life, he had to keep telling hundreds of thousands of people that that was exactly the case. The whole situation made him sick to his stomach.

His residence wasn't more than 3 blocks away from the studio and as always he greeted its red-gray motif with a happy soul. Finally, a time when he could just forget about the whole mess for a handful of hours, get some dinner ready, have a shower... spend some quality time undisturbed by news anchors who worshipped Kira or a boss who worshipped the ratings that he created.

Today must have been worse than he'd thought- it wasn't often thoughts of that dominating topic surfaced even here, after he'd cooked a vegetarian meal for one. Valgreen was no gourmet, but had been naturally forced to learn a few bachelor tricks. But now it was Kira's supporters which dominated his thoughts instead of the taste and texture of his homemade meal.

His own personal dislike aside, was it possible that what Kira had pledged to do would become reality? After all, the police had long since given up trying to catch an invisible assailant. News networks like Genya's actively supported him or her, as did several foreign nations. Even the special task force created to catch Kira he'd heard passing rumors about no longer seemed to be actively pursuing leads. He'd made commitment when this madness had first started that he'd resume courtship of a certain fine lady over at the studio once the massive juggernaut that was the 'Kira' news story had drawn to a close. But what if it _didn't?_

"Impossible", he reminded himself aloud. This would pass as all things must. There were still wars that had held the public eye for longer. All he had to do was bear it, humoring the Kira fanatics and covering each death with his customary drollness. No one wanted to see their news anchor flipping out, no matter how disturbing the implications of a killer who could strike anywhere, at any time.

The idea relaxed him immensely. Time was Kira's enemy. Eventually, like the wars, time would catch up to Kira. He would become nothing but a statistic, a sensation. They would still report the deaths, the panic they created in the criminal underworld. But these would be commonplace events, no longer the acts of a divine power. And Genya Valgreen could get back to covering news less gruesome than a dozen grisly deaths of wanted criminals or corrupt officials. Cheered, he got back to the asparagus stalks-

-Choked.

_What? On __**these **__things? Impossi-_

-Coughed. Slipped. Legs gave way like gelatin dessert. _But how? This stuff is fresh, I cooked it thoroughly, how could-_

-Hit the carpet. He couldn't breathe. The ceiling light shined on his face, brighter and warmer than he remembered. But even that was beginning to fade as jolted senses screamed in desperation for oxygen. _KIRA?!_

-Black spots swimming. Voice cracking in vain to speak a single syllable. _Impossible! This is wrong! I've never comitted a crime! God, please don't-_

-Ceiling light fading. Lungs bursting. _I... I've been __**good**__!!_

_-_Dark.

- - -

**Part 1 - Impostor**

Something had gone wrong. ICPO inspector Aizawa could tell that much the moment he stepped off the elevator into the large warren of computers and screens that comprised the special 'Kira' task force's eyes and ears on the world.

For one thing, Matsuda wasn't talking in a vain effort to either buoy everyone's downcast spirits or promote his financier, 'Misa-Misa' Amane. Like the rest of the men present, he was held rapt by the live broadcast taking up two of the multitude of monitors they had set up just past the lounge area.

For another, inspector Light Yagami wasn't present, wasn't seated in that central office chair that used to belong to another. Normally they were inseperable as Soichiro Yagami's brilliant son had thrown himself into their quest. But now? He was nowhere to be found. Where was he?

_Light_. Aizawa mused unhappily. No matter what that brown-haired young man did, no matter how hard they worked the Kira case, nothing could ever fully cure inspector Aizawa of the niggling notion that _Light_ was in fact the very killer they sought to catch. Their late boss had, after all, been a legendary sleuthing genius. L had _never_ been wrong before. And _he_ had suspected Light more than anyone else here. There was no cure for this burning suspicion in his heart. Not if they continued to work this impossible case until the end of their days, or until the Japanese government finally gave in to growing pressure from Kira supporters and shut them down for good. Whichever came first...

"And so we bid a fond farewell to one of our own", the black-haired newscaster was saying, silouetted as she was before an ordinary urban street. "It's important to have a reminder now and then that no one here is immune to tragedy, not even those of us who are committed to reporting on it. Genya, you will be missed."

Aizawa stopped breathing. There were two more heart attack fatalities listed in the display bar at the bottom of the screen. Neither of them had any connection to criminals.

And wasn't it convenient how Channel 6 News, one of the most fervently pro-Kira biased networks was suddenly referring to these deaths as a 'tragedy'?

"Get me a private line. I want to check out Judgement", he spoke up from behind Matsu. Off to the side, one of the technicians nodded wisely and tossed him some headphones. Channel 6 was known to be biased, but it hadn't been created solely around their target. Judgement, though, was the most current voice of the Kira supporters, created for them to espouse their own views and loyalty.

Sure enough, a furious debate was already in progress on that channel; four men in casual clothes sitting in a studio that had once been used for a popular cooking show. One obese shape he quickly recognized as multimedia tycoon Demegawa, perhaps the most influential of all Kira's supporters. Not to mention one of the most willing to abuse his newfound power as a so-called 'voice of Kira'. And sitting opposite him...

An obvious foreigner with bright blonde hair hanging down his back in two streams. Dark green eyes radiated serenity that the other two debaters currently lacked, and that Demegawa probably had never had. _Who is that?_

"I'm not saying we can ignore this deviation, Omishori", the young man was saying, trying to make himself heard over an unusually restless crowd. "I'm saying that God's judgement, and His process of selection, remains a mystery to us all. Who here can say whether or not Genya Valgreen and those other two were _truly_ innocent of all crimes? A criminal concealed by a squeaky-clean public image is nothing new. I'm saying we must show Kira a little faith before accusing him of killing innocents. Especially since he hasn't done anything like this before now."

"At what point would you renounce your faith then, Duval?", the tall debater Aizawa guessed to be Omishori shot back. "When children lie dead in our streets? There is no mistaking Kira's hand in this- he even left his mark at each death."

Aizawa blinked. "Is that true?!" Then he remembered that he was the only one wearing the headphones, though some of the others were gravitating over to his television regardless. "They said Kira 'left his mark' at each of these deaths", he felt compelled to explain. "Which is weird, considering none of the others had a 'mark'. Rather, his mark is having no mark. Heart attack symptoms, no sign of any causes or injuries. Right?"

"R-right", stammered one of the techs. Despite their lack of expertise in criminology they always seemed to want to be kept in the loop in return to maintaining the massive electronic setup that had belonged to L. Not a hard thing for Aizawa to do, given the lack of new information in the case until now. "Local police said that they found a small wooden box at each murder site. With the word 'KIRA' on it."

Aizawa shook his head. "Ridiculous. Kira's never announced himself that way before. Never needed to. Ranikamil, get down there and see if you can get one of those boxes."

Their newest agent, a young forensic expert with skin as dark as Aizawa's, nodded and left. Just as quickly, who should walk in and take Ranikamil's swivel chair than Light Yagami. "Hey", he called to them in the closest thing he got to an 'enthusiastic' tone these days. "What's going on guys?"

_As if you didn't know. Not fully informed maybe, but completely clueless? That's not like you at all. You're just playing dumb, Light. And I can't help wondering why. _"See for yourself, boss. There were three Kira killings last night. All innocent."

Light stood, eyes wide. "No way! He's never done that before. Are you sure they're the same as all the others?"

"Not entirely the same", Matsu pointed out. "There was a small box with his name on it at each site. We just sent Ran-Ran to try and grab one."

Light absorbed that, seemingly balanced between suprise and stalwartness. "Stay on that. It's obvious that we have someone trying to impersonate Kira, maybe someone 'inspired' by him."

Aizawa could no longer fight the urge to pounce on such an unguarded statement. "I'm not so sure of that, Light. We know that he's been killing people with another copy of that notebook we took off Kyosuke Higuchi. Doesn't mean he can't kill in other ways, too. Maybe that notebook of his ran out of pages, or was destroyed somehow."

Taken aback, Light simply nodded and traveled over to L's chair. Innocent or no, there was enough suspicion towards him among other members of the task force that any sign of favoring Kira could be Light's last. _Yet he's still the boss, _Aizawa acknowledged grimly. _For now._

"Who's that?"

Following Light's gaze, Aizawa saw that Judgement's camera had travelled back to the young blond man from before. Duval was still defending Kira, this time against a live caller who denied Kira's power as nothing but fancy tricks. "The police don't care", the anonymous caller was saying in a decidedly tearstricken tone. "They don't give a damn. They've been _glad _that criminals are dying off. Maybe now they'll get off their asses and do something about this maniac. It's about time that Kira showed his true colors."

Duval stood, about to reply when an off-camera signal stopped him. "I wish I could take a moment to talk with you about this sir, but it seems we have a message from God that may just settle a few of your troubles better than I ever could."

"Pretty good Japanese", Ide remarked. "Barely any trace of a European accent."

_True._ Aizawa noted. _And diehard Kira supporters are still few and far between anyplace but Japan or America. What's this guy's stake in it?_

"This is Kira", the audio feed cut in, electronically distorted as it always was whenever Kira saw the need to speak directly to someone without the easy giveaway of voice identification. "Of course now, more than ever, it's important to prove that that is true, that_ I _speak the truth to you, my followers. So at the end of this recording, I will give you the names of the next three criminals that I am going to kill."

He should have run for the elevator then. Someone else could have fed him the names and he could have tracked down likely suspects before Judgement's half-hour slot was even over. But no one wanted to move and miss a second of this. On the other side of the camera, Demegawa, Omishori, Duval and their studio audience were held equally enrapt.

"Vicious criminals have killed three innocents while masquerading as me", Kira's voice continued. "They wish to tarnish my reputation, forever despoiling the Perfect World I seek to build. They will be punished for it. Search the murder sites and you will know the truth. These criminals have used their weapons to kill from afar, but there is no substitute for God's power. Do not allow this last, desperate attempt by the criminal and the corrupt to sway your hearts from our great goal."

"Until those responsible have been caught, to prevent further confusion I will continue to announce the criminals that I am going to punish on this channel. Any other unexplained deaths you hear of are the work of evil men... evil men like Miguo Katamori, Qatada Nejion, and Jiang Sanamuto. Miguo Katamori will soon die from decapitation. Qatada Nejion will soon lose his left arm, and Jiang Sanamuto his right arm."

And just like that, the spell was broken. "Nagisa Square!" Aizawa barked as he sprinted for the elevator and his car at the bottom. "Streets to the south and the freeway to the north! Matsu, take the highroad off 12th and Mercy! Look for unmarked, speeding vehicles!" It occured to him once the elevator's mirrored doors had closed that Light might have had his own plans to catch the fallout from Kira's inflammatory broadcast. And he was still the boss. Technically.

"To hell with what Light wants", the inspector rebuked his reflection on the elevator doors. "If this leads to the _real_ Kira... I'll take whatever comes."

-

Within the space of five minutes, the task force had cleared out of their secret headquarters, racing to catch some sign of reaction within the criminal fraternity. Even the two technicians had left, one headed to the police station to help Ranikamil analyze the mysterious boxes and the other driving with Matsuda. Neither had been aware that the other was leaving in the chaos.

Which of course left Light 'L' Yagami all alone, to himself.

"Heheheheh. Gotta say that was funny, watching 'em run like little chickens. Nice timing."

_Almost_ alone. Ignoring the capers of his demonic companion, Light got back to L's chair to watch the unfolding chase, monitors locked onto both Aizawa and Matsuda's cars. "It's _good_ that they're alert, Ryuk", he said. "It means _I_ don't have to help them so much to catch this imposter. And it's good for Aizawa to have something else to do instead of always trying to prove that I'm Kira."

The decrepit-looking Shinigami chuckled heartilly behind him. "Maybe you should thank him."

In an instant, Light's face shifted from familiarity towards his friend to a look of pure rage. "_NEVER. _This person's killed three completely innocent people, leaving Kira's name at the scenes. Not even Misa ever went _that_ far. There's only one reason they could be doing that- to destroy my reputation. No one's going to follow the law of Kira if they think he kills the innocent along with the guilty. Even that phone recording's just a gray fallacy now."

"Gray what...?"

Light sighed. Sometimes Ryuk was welcome company. Other times, Light couldn't help but yearn for someone on his intellectual level, someone else who shared his grand vision of a perfect world... L had been the only one who fit the former, but had been sadly lacking in the latter. He'd had no choice but to kill him. "From legal studies. Gray fallacy is created when two opposing parties make claims that are mutually exclusive. When that's a public event like a lawsuit, the average person won't be able to believe in either claim without decisive proof... I've lost you, haven't I?"

The Shinigami was in fact looking out the window to watch the inevitable traffic chaos dozens of floors below. "Heheheh. Yep."

"Well, the point is, I've denied the accusations before they got started. With any luck, Aizawa will be able to recover the evidence I used to back up my claims. I told Misa to write those names at midnight. It's 12:04 now; they should all be dead in the way I specified- head, left arm, and right arm. All that's left to do is catch the impostor." _Not bad, considering this game only started five hours ago. Such a simple trap, but one I didn't expect, not with L out of the picture._

Sure enough, Aizawa's car had already torn into the slums that framed Nagisa Square on the monitor, feeding Light sound and sight from the sound and camera screen they'd placed within the car's dashboard. These were truly the lowest of the low in Japan. Miles of grafitti over rusty, ruined indsutrial housing providing a kind of shelter only fugitives or criminals would use. Being so large, it was the perfect hideaway.

_Just a little longer now. _While Murphy's Law always had to be accounted for, Aizawa and Ide had indeed chosen wisely. Dozens of immobile, broken-down cars littered these streets, but the ones that didn't show any signs of damage would give away the presence of criminals desperate to find some place they could hide from Kira's power. _See how they like being the hunted ones._ Light thought in satisfaction. The balance of power certainly had come a long way since he'd first aquired the Death Note and met Ryuk. Sooner or later the screaming from one of the three criminals he'd named would pierce the quiet darkness, and they'd have a severed arm or a head as evidence.

_There! _Before he could even think of making a call to them, squinting headlights lit up the back of Aizawa's car. Light's vidcam shifted wildly for a moment as the driver instinctively wheeled into another alleyway, but even Light stopped to stare for a moment when the other vehicle roared into view- an unmarked 18-wheeler, more than twice the size of Aizawa's car.

But it wasted no time in trying to intimidate the inspectors, instead blasting off towards the district exit with Aizawa's car in hot pursuit. Any doubts that they'd only stumbled upon an extremely paranoid shipping company were dispelled once the trailer door slid open to reveal a pair of men with suits, ties, and most importantly, guns. _Nejion's men_, Light noted, remembering their faces from the task force's index of criminal suspects. _Trying to escape his fate. But I don't see a body- did they leave it at their hideout? _

In the tight passages of the square, Aizawa's mad swerving and Ide's return fire could only save the driver and passenger from direct hits- the car's windshield was soon totally destroyed along with the rearview mirrors and bumpers. Both the hoods kept up an indiscriminate spray of bullets as they tore out onto the freeway.

"Matsuda", Light spoke up hurriedly on both the car's vidcams. "Get back to the freeway, there's an unmarked truck there. Try to cut them off. Ide, go for the tires. You can't get them directly while Aizawa's swerving like that."

"Ex_cuse_ me", the driver's irritated voice shot back. "This is suicide; I'm falling back to tail 'em. Put in a call to the locals if they haven't noticed this already."

"Got it" Without wasting a beat, Light switched over to a phone line to make the call. He couldn't deny the agreeable feeling of power he felt while acting from the center of the late L's massive nexus of electronic communications and information, working as a sort of 'master coordinator' for the task force.

If he so desired, from here Light could have simultaneous use of up to four phone lines, fixed cameras in several criminal hideouts, the live vidcam links in each of their cars, and internet access. Each with their own screen and plenty more leftover. None of it compared to the head-rush feeling of writing in the Death Note of course, but circumstances had conspired so that Light had been unable to use it himself for weeks now, instead having to relay the names of the guilty off to an increasingly clingy Misa Amane. The vast computing power of L's network would have to do as a substitute for now... and the evil ones were still dying off. _That _was what truly mattered, not his personal comfort.

A massive screech snapped him out of his reverie. Ide had finally hit his mark on those tires, taking out two at the rear and causing the vehicle's chassis to sag sharply to the left. The driver's only response was to speed up even further... thus causing one of the gunners to fall out of the back onto the road, rolling to a stop before standing and running out of the vidcam's range.

Light supressed a scowl over that. The car had stopped. Aizawa was going after the gunner instead of the truck. True, a live captive could be useful but the body or severed arm of Qatada Nejion was what he needed. Matsuda was coming from the other side, but long experience with that idiot had taught Light never to trust him with anything important. _If he screws this up..._

"Y'know, I never realized how much you cared about your 'image', Light. Heheh."

Light shut the Shinigami up with a glare and checked the other vidcam. Matsu had at least chosen his approach well; the truck was now trapped by columns of vehicles on both sides with his car coming up the middle lane. Even as the larger vehicle swerved about in an attempt to scare civillians on either side out of his way, Matsuda's car came on, pulling into a braking that blasted Light's headset with static. Cursing, he was about to bring the thing back up to his ears when the image on the screen made him think again.

Two agents tumbling out of both sides of the car. The truck lumbering onward. Glass cracking. Fire, and then darkness.

"That _idiot_", Light couldn't help but mutter. For once, he wasn't talking about Matsuda. That truck driver _should _have stopped. He hadn't a clue as to the likely outcome when two gas-powered vehicles impacted each other at speeds as high as that. As a result, it was likely he, the remaining gunman and any other evidence they had with them had just gone up in flames. _Damn it. Just have to pray Aizawa catches the other one. Too much to hope for that the police might bag someone connected to Katamoi or Sanamuto in transit._

On to other matters. For a moment there, he'd been so engaged in the chase that he'd forgotten about something else he had to do before Ranikamil came back from the police department with that box. Casually, with no hint of worry, Light strode about the room systematically picking at the corners, beneath chairs and tables as Ryuk looked on in boredom. Aizawa had been clever, but not clever enough. And so predictable. In ten minutes' time he had retrieved five listening devices, each one less than the size of a cell phone. Plugged each of them into the mainframe by their USB ports.

Light shook his head as he double-checked the time he'd spent talking to Ryuk with what he'd said for the rest of the chase. "That man! He never quits. I don't think he'd give up if L himself came back from the dead to tell him he'd been wrong about me."

"That'd be a bit difficult to pull off, I think", Ryuk echoed back merrily. "Unless you want to put on a white T-shirt and eat candy all the time. Why don't you just... y'know."

"I already _told _you. The rest of the team would suspect me just as much as Aizawa does now if he suddenly died from the Death Note. Yes, I _could_ kill them all, but then even if Interpol didn't suspect me, I'd have no excuse to continue using L's network. And_ that's _already helped me to find more criminal names and faces than any other database in the world."

The young man's bitter logic seemed to have cowed Ryuk for now. He simply glided off to look for something else to amuse him. In the meantime, the computer had done its work; all five bugs had four minutes and fifty-five seconds of Light talking to seemingly no one replaced with utter silence until the chase had started. Without a word, he put each one back in it's place and stood-

-Yawned wide. _Whoa. Long night. 12:33, right?_ Though Light had never needed huge amounts of sleep even in high school, he had also been investigating and micromanaging both Kira's followers and the Interpol task force for more than 28 hours straight. As imperative as it was for him to stay alert, some downtime was past overdue, and even if it wasn't his mortal body would not take 'no' for an answer much longer.

_Even the God of the New World has to sleep_, he mused to himself between rest and wakefulness, his body involuntarily sliding itself onto one of the plush couches arrayed behind the monitor cluster. _But now I can afford to. The truth will come out that chemical weapons were used to kill the three innocents. Kira's image will be restored among the faithful and we can put the whole fiasco behind us... minus an Interpol car or two..._

-

The smell of some very strong coffee was the first thing Light percieved. Still fuzzy, he averted leaning over just in time to notice that someone had been holding an entire pot of the stuff beneath his nose. "Wha-?"

"Sleeping beauty wakes at last", agent Ide observed snarkily from the other side of the lounge. "We figured it was time."

Light looked around. Everyone was back at headquarters, safe and sound. One of the technicians was in his chair, Aizawa looking over some files and Matsuda holding the coffee pot that had nearly burned him.

And there was _sunlight_ coming through the windows. Frantic, he checked his favorite watch. 10:46. "_Hunh?! _Why didn't you guys wake me up earlier?!"

Still watching the screens, Aizawa chuckled. "Well we _would_ have, but for all that snoring. And Ide only suggested using the coffee pot now. Wonderful stuff, that. You should try it sometime."

Hiding embarrassment did no good when everyone could see the mortification on your face. Light turned to the sun. "I _don't _snore. And coffee's not my thing."

Right on cue, the techie flipped a switch to broadcast the definitive sound of snoring, eliciting a good laugh from everyone around the table but Light. They probably had made visual recordings too. _Note to self- don't ever sleep in the headquarters lounge again. _"Ha ha ha, very funny guys. So. What's new with Nejion's men? Assuming you had time to catch them in-between making me look like an idiot."

Just like that, the reason for their uncharacteristic attempts at levity became clear- they had bad news. "No one? Well I'll tell him then. The good news first.", Aizawa decided after a long, uncomfortable silence. "It wasn't easy. I had to chase him five blocks, but I caught the one who fell out of the truck. Say hello to Chiru Surotawa, serial murderer and professional honey trap."

Again right on cue, a screen switched to show the man Aizawa had caught, locked up in the very same spartan metal chair they'd once held Misa Amane in. Just like her, the handsome criminal had been bound and blindfolded, silouetted by blinding lights. Gagged as well, presumably to drown out whatever army of profanities he would have otherwise spewed out at the cameras watching him.

"Good work", Light acknowledged. "But I doubt he'll talk easily." _Especially if his confession helps Kira restore his image. _"What about the three criminals Kira said he'd killed? Any sign of them?"

Ide frowned. "Yes and no. We never found a trace of their bodies, but... when we went back to Nejion's hideout to look, we found this." With that, he placed a wooden box on the table. A box identical to the ones that had killed Genya Valgreen and two others, it's top blasted apart like a bomb. Another wooden box marked 'KIRA'.

A chill permeated Light's neck so strong that he almost reached for the coffee pot to burn his hand. Anything to distract him from the implications now raging through his brain like lightning.

Now the forensic analyst Sugarne Ranikamil, their youngest, greenest member spoke from near Surotawa's cell, adjusting his glasses nervously. "I analyzed that one and one of the first three, sir. Like you suspected, they're likely a remote delivery method for chemical weapons. There's traces of some common flammable substances and substantial charring on both, but the rest... must have burned up when they were set off. We won't be able to tell what exactly this nerve gas' makeup is until we capture a live 'Kira-Bomb'. Worse, there isn't sufficent difference in composition to tell exactly _when_ each one went off. All I can tell you is this new one went off sometime within the past 12 hours."

_The same time as those criminals died. Someone planted a pre-detonated one in Nagisa Square __**after**__ Nejion died. Now no one will be able to tell if the Death Note killed them or the so-called 'Kira-Bombs' did._

"And Light... I'm sorry. It's not the only bomb that went off while you were sleeping", Matsuda cut in tenatively. "There was a new one this morning. Logan Daisuke, his whole family..."

He could no longer conceal the shock. Thankfully, this time it was fully warranted. Mr. Daisuke had been Light's civics professor. A short, balding man wearing a sports jacket who nonetheless had some of the only class discussions Light had ever been genuinely interested in. Daisuke was as innocent of crimes as a newborn baby, and far more valuble an educator. _Why is this happening?!_

"Did... you know him, Light?"

Standing there amidst a crowd of faces who knew what was happening was bad but didn't have an inkling as to just _how_ bad, he _saw_ it.

A similar thing had happened to Light several times whenever he or L had won a decisive move in their little game of deceptions. There were any number of explanations for it he could think of. It could have been that repeated use of the Death Note allowed one to identify intangible threats by sight. It could have been a sixth sense for dangers to his master plan, of which L had been the greatest. It could have been just his own imagination playing tricks on him.

Whatever the case, it was not a blue glow that surrounded his opponent this time, contrasting with the red radiance Light himself emitted while in this state. All he could see of his foe was a shapeless black void before him, darkness threatening to drown out his red light. A phantom, clearly invisible to all the rest as they wondered why their boss was staring for so long at an empty space.

But that red haze in Light's eyes would never be beaten so easily. Were that so, he could never have gotten this far. His quest would have ended with that oafish FBI agent, Raye Pembur.

_With L dead I thought I had won this game. But there's new player on the board now, who won't stop his plans until my Perfect World lies in ruin. But... this is only the beginning. Know this, phantom- I am KIRA. God of the New World. I destroyed L. And I WILL destroy you!_

-

**If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. **

**If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack. **

**TBC**

**-**

**M: So there it is, the start of my first written fiction in about a year, and my first time doing a story on Death Note- a serious story, unlike the most popular ones, but I digress. Hopefully the creative spark will last this time, but either way I will definitely finish this one. Hoping to maintain a schedule of about one new chapter a week. Depending on feedback this can become faster or slower.**


	2. Part 2 Intrusion

**Disclaimer: Mr. Tsugumi Ohba created Death Note. Original characters are mine.**

**-**

**Part 2 - Intrusion**

Misa Amane was worried. Her friends had always told her in no small terms that she was a difficult one to worry, bubbly and optimistic to a fault about even the worst of life's aspects. But here was something she had only heard about on about a million TV dramas. How suprising that the reality of it was harder to deal with than she had guessed.

Her boyfriend Light had stalked into their residence around 1:30 looking pale. He didn't want breakfast. Didn't even want to talk to her, and eventually went so far as to imply physical punishment if she'd continued her repeated attempts at cheering him up or getting some food into the boy who was supposed to be her fiancee-to-be. So instead she had simply waited, slumped outside his locked door, waiting to see what happened.

She deserved to know that much at least. Was she not, after all, the one who had been writing all of Light's targets in the Death Note for him? What could have possibly happened that could vex _her_ Light Yagami? As she had seen again and again and again, her boyfriend was a _genius_. He'd set plans into motion over the past few months she didn't understand even after he'd explained them to her, step by step. The young model had long since made up her mind that knowing the complete truth wasn't something she needed to do. All she had to do was maintain complete faith in Light, and do whatever he asked of her. Light would take care of everything that needed to be done. Reality had quickly become nothing in the face of this implacable mantra.

All the same, it was so hard to watch him in this state and be unable to do anything about it. If he'd only just clue her in a bit about what was going on... just a tiny little bit?

Muted sounds brought her back to the present. Light was watching TV in there, with the sound low enough so only he could make out what they were saying.

Thirty seconds later, unable to take crouching at the door anymore, she pulled it open to catch him hitting pause. "Light? Are you...?"

"-it is hardly the first time for THE GUILTY TO TRY TO CORRUPT OUR SAVIOR-"

Misa's hands instinctively flew to her ears as the noise soared beyond all comprehension. In the same instant Light forcefully grabbed her and pulled her in close. Not quite a passionate hug, but close enough to one that she melted in his arms as he whispered briskly in her ear.

"The Kira Task force was just now granted special permission to bug people's houses without permission. Even the homes of their agents. From now on until I say, we can't openly discuss the Death Note at home. You will not say ANYTHING about my being Kira. Understand?"

The boy's face betrayed nothing as he released her, but this time he wasn't in a threatening manner. Once he was certain she got it, he hit mute, silencing the incredible din of the blond man currently speaking at maximum TV volume.

"I just had to think for a while, Misa. I didn't mean to turn down breakfast."

It was enough. All smiles, she hopped up onto their bed next to him. "That's okay! Watcha doing?"

Looking back at the blond man frozen on the screen, Light resumed the tape. "Watching this man. Closely."

"How come?"

"Because he's one of a handful who still trust in Kira."

Given up? She was so confused. Why would people give up on Kira when she'd written every name Light told her? She'd even written the exact way those three criminals were supposed to die last night. Left arm, right arm, and head cut off; a departure from the usual method of leaving the space beside the time blank and thus causing symptoms identical to a heart attack fourty seconds after, but nothing they hadn't done before.

"His name is Bergan Duval. He held a public speech today imploring everyone to keep supporting Kira, even after the Daisuke family died."

Indeed, that seemed to be what he was doing now. Duval had a tendency to speak with large, showy gestures that showed off noticable muscles on his arms. Althought Light had hit the mute button so they could talk, the fact that he was clearly desperate to convince a dispassionate audience was not lost on Misa.

"I need to consider new options. Our red-haired friend isn't responding. Neither is anyone else."

That brought her up short. Their 'red-haired friend' was an older man named Maigas who ran a shipping company, who had privately offered the services of his entire fleet of trucks to Kira in gratitude for all He had done. That whatever was going on would be enough to make him renounce his loyalty to Kira...

"Why? Do you want me to-"

The glare he gave back was enough to convey that she'd said something completely out of line, but he dared not elaborate while the possibility existed they were under surveilance. Operating under the principles of maximum paranoia was part of what had gotten Light this far in his quest. "Kira _doesn't _kill the innocent, Misa. But now we're running out of options. We brought in Chiru Surotawa, one of Nejion's men, but he's not talking to us. He'll _never_ talk to Interpol if he thinks his confession will help Kira."

She sat back, trying to make sense of the deliberately vague account of what had gone on at her boyfriend's work, now too afraid to talk further. Then, he did something that suprised her.

"I have an idea to get him, though. Are you up to it?"

He _never _did that. Always left it up to someone else since their memories of the Death Note had been restored. Well, whatever the reason it didn't matter; now was her chance to prove she wasn't dead weight in the big plan.

"Did you have to ask, Light?"

Satisfaction flitted across the man's face. Then, he put a cellphone- the special one with the vocal distortion- to his ear.

"Demegawa? This is Kira. I have a job for you."

-

Bergan Duval couldn't help but feel disappointed at the sight he'd been led to. This had been no ordinary tip, after all. That the address he'd been instructed to come to looked to be condemned for all intents and purposes naturally affected the regard in which he held the being he'd been so enthusiastically defending for an entire day with little result.

He might have been better off keeping his mouth shut. Now his show was off the air indefinitely and few people would dare to hire such a recognizable face. _I'd defend our God as long as need be, but a guy's got to eat and sleep. _It didn't help at all that he had yet to grow accustomed to common staples of the country's diet such as Ramen either. In the eyes of those he had sought to convince of Kira's righteousness, he was still just a _gaijin_ to them.

Now, though, Duval could see the truth for himself, and learn if the stalwart faith he'd shown the outside world was justified. Had their God of Judgement in fact been nothing more than an extremely talented assassin all along? Either way, the excitement of finding out was beginning to override his initial dread as he swung the rusted warehouse's back door open and strode into the darkness.

A single ceiling lamp guided him forward through a milieu of cobwebs. Whoever had originally been using this place, they had been gone even before Duval had moved here to seek out Kira. As his eyes better adjusted to the dank, a horrible thought occured to him- what if this contact was a criminal, simply trying to remove the competition? A place such as this made the perfect hideout. A dozen men with guns could be watching him and he wouldn't even see them until it was too late.

_Enough_, he reprimanded. _Letting the imagination run wild is worse than anything they can do to you. There's no turning back now._

Slowly, careful not to trip on unseen obstacles, Duval reached the dusty table beneath the lamp. Three objects awaited him; a small note of cyrillic font, a headset, and a black rag with a knot at one end. _I may know what happens now. But best not to show it._ He read the note:

_Don't run; I'm watching you. Put on the headset and the blindfold._

_-K_

Knowing that hesitation would only lessen his chances of surviving the night, Duval quickly donned both, reducing even the ceiling lamp to a dim glow behind the cloth. Within seconds, the headset crackled to life and the same voice that had brought Duval here began to speak.

"I'm glad to see your faith in me was not merely an act, Mr. Duval. Since we don't have a lot of time I'd prefer to get down to business, but let me first ask you this- do you believe in me?"

_Kira. _Beside him, the lamp flickered. "O-Of course, God."

There was no sign of a microphone, but the other voice responded instantly, sharply over the headset. "I mean truly, honestly. I know full well that Demegawa only does it for the money and ratings, Omishori for the attention, Ushura for the _power_. Why do you, a foreigner from a country where Kira has little to no power, support me?"

Sweat clouded Duval's brow, but to show weakness now might be all the justification the voice needed to snuff out his life like any criminal. "I... It is difficult to convey in your talk. I am still learning the points."

"Go ahead then. I understand English perfectly."

Duval swallowed hard. "Because I understand what you are trying to do. To rid the world of the criminals and the corrupt. To create paradise. Five months ago, you killed a man in my home country. He was the descendent of nobility, who used his wealth and power to escape any penalty our underfunded justice system brought upon him. He was a child molester."

The words spilled forth, a disjointed mingling of Japanese and English, too fast for anyone to interpet until seconds later. But he wouldn't, couldn't, stop. Not after waiting so long for this chance. He would not cry in front of Kira no matter how heavy his eyes felt. It would be undignified.

"He... he did it to me when I was six years old. I knew other children that he violated. For years afterwards, I tried thinking of hundreds of ways to kill him that his bodyguards couldn't stop, that would be impossible to trace back to me or my family. But I could never go through with it. Then, _you_ happened. Everyone said he died in the night from too much wine, but I knew the truth. I knew I had to find you, do whatever I could to help you."

Silence from Kira. Had he perhaps said too much? It only made sense for Kira to avoid placing confidence in overly emotional individuals, even those passionate about his goals. Deprived of nearly all senses, he waited in darkness for a response that seemed progressively less and less likely to come.

"I understand. I gave you vengence. My turn now. I contacted you specifically for two reasons, Duval. First, because I recognized you as someone who was loyal to the idea of my perfect world without being completely fanatical. Fanatics like Ushura all expect me to be able to solve all of their problems for them, blindly worshipping something they barely understand."

A slight nod was his only acknowledgement. Going into details on some of his less-scrupulous colleagues was a waste of time. Kira already knew all.

"Second, because of all my remaining followers, you alone possess combat training. I need your services in order to help redeem my name and undo the damage these chemical bombs have done."

_The mental damage anyway. Nothing we do can undo the physical damage. _"Whatever you need, God."

"Good. One more thing from you before we begin, then."

All at once, multiple sensory inputs caught him off guard. A splash of light from somewhere to the left of him. Sounds of a crying, begging girl being hauled into the room with him. And the cold steel of what could only be a gun being forcibly slid into his hands, then pointed in the direction of the crying.

"What...?"

"Please! Don't hurt me! I haven't done anything!"

"This girl is a traitor", the headset voice cut in, almost suceeding in drowning out the mystery girl's frantic pleas for mercy. "She attempted to infiltrate Demegawa's studio and steal information so that her master, Miguo Katamori, could track me down."

Comprehending, feeling a strong hand holding his arm straight so that it could only point at the intended target, Duval considered. "You want me to kill her."

"I need to be sure of you, Duval. Until recently people innocent of sin freely proclaimed their loyalty to me. But anyone can say that. Being willing to do what_ I _do- to execute the guilty- is not so simple."

"NO! NOOOO! Please don't kill me, I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"

_No choice. He's right. Only a scant few have the courage to do what he does. They are the only ones Kira can rely on._

"I never meant to help them! I only-"

The shot was suprisingly quiet. Duval only realized now that there must have been a silencer or something attacthed. It had also silenced the girl's screams, but apparently even this wasn't enough for Kira.

"_Again_, Duval. She's still breathing."

Again, he felt the noise rattle up the handle and into his arm. This time, with no hesitation. The other set of arms who had grabbed him poked his wrist, prompting him to release the crushing grip he'd held the weapon in. He still couldn't see anything but the dim glow of the lamp. Still felt so cold.

"Good work. Now, to the task I need you for. There's a hidden Interpol office on the top floors of a building just a short jog north of here; the only one with more than ten floors. They're holding a witness in there named Surotawa that could clear me of the impostor-Kira's killings. I need you to get him out of there."

Still off-center from what he'd just been forced to do, Duval stared into the darkness before responding. "What about security?"

"They have retinal scanners guarding the elevator and cameras watching the main floor as well as Surotawa's cell. But you're not going to be using the elevator. There's a briefcase underneath a bench near the building that contains everything you'll need. Combination is 264. Don't remove this headset until you're about to put on the helmet in the case; there's another microphone built into the helmet. I'll guide you from there. Leave the gun. You won't need it."

"How... how do you know all this?"

A dry chuckle came back to him. "What am I, Duval?"

-

Minutes later, long after Duval had left the premises of the warehouse, Misa Amane stood. It was still difficult to breathe properly, but she wanted Light to know she was alright. No response seemed forthcoming- he hadn't even turned the lights on. Annoyed, she ditched the oppressively heavy vest he'd had her wear and felt her way back into the spartan chamber Light had made their temporary headquarters. _All this dust is gonna murder my hair..._

Light was bent over a wooden crate, watching a live feed from a laptop. Without even looking up, he motioned for her to have a seat on a rusted barrel, intent on monitoring the vidcam in Duval's headset. The headset Light himself wore was unique in that it had a manual cutoff switch located in the left segment. The small blue light shining above the earbud seemed unecessary, but in this case it worked to remind her of when not to say anything that the headset might pick up.

"Well?"

Watching Duval find and unlock the briefcase, Light still didn't look up. "Well what?"

"Weren't you going to say something? You know, like 'good job there, Misa'."

"Fine. Good job. You had to force him to release his grip on the gun when you took it from him. He could've shot you for real if he wanted to then. You can't wear a bulletproof vest on your head."

Oooh...! Still such a cold, uncaring tone, only pointing out her mistakes. Why couldn't Light at least be more excited that things were going so well? "Well... he's a strong guy. He wasn't going to let go of that gun. Why didn't you just get someone else to do that part?"

"I told you before. The number of people I can trust to stay loyal to me has dropped immeasurably since these Kira-Bombs started."

Talk about a backhanded compliment. Still, she would take it for what it was. "Hee! Thanks, Light! So, what is he gonna do now?"

Light held up one hand to indicate quiet, and switched the microphone on as the vidfeed changed to roughly the same place as before, this time through the eyes of their pawn. He'd donned the large rubber helmet from the gear Demegawa had provided for them. Though it looked completely ridiculous, seemingly recycled from some 'Super Sentai' show the tycoon's studio produced, this one had had some modifications that allowed them to stay in contact with Duval as well as monitor exactly what he saw through the huge, insect-like eyepieces. Additionally, no camera would be able to identify him by hair or eyes while he wore the helmet- after investing this much time in ensuring that his new follower was loyal, Light didn't want Duval arrested for his trouble.

"Put on those suction cups and gloves, and take the rest with you in the pouch. Start climbing from the east wall; no one can see you from there."

"Now I know you're not a true God", the blond man deadpanned. "He wouldn't give me a helmet this cheesy-looking. I feel like a Martian in a B-movie."

"Is that a problem, Mr. Duval?"

"Not at all. Human you may be, but your cause remains pure."

"Good. Now shift over to the south wall when you reach the twelfth floor- there's a camera in the office on the east wall."

With that, Light flipped the set back to neutral and steepled his hands. "At least it isn't raining. But this was the only way to get past the retinal scan. And before you ask, Misa, any alterations to the retinal database are recorded for date and authority. Anyone who checked afterwards would know that I altered it."

"I wasn't going to say a thing", she protested, now idly looking back over the hundreds of names they'd written down in the remaining Death Note left to them over the months. _Hard to believe these are all bad guys. But my Light always knows who's been bad and who's good, that's why he's so smart. _"So he's going to get that handsome guy out of there?"

"Surotawa's a _criminal_, Misa. He uses those good looks of his to get young women into bed with him so he can rob them and kill them. But yes. I can't interrogate Surotawa properly so long as he's in Aizawa's custody. Normal methods aren't working on him. I need to find some other way to get him to talk."

"So... what will you do?"

Suprise toned his reply- Misa was rarely ever interested in his plans, and even rarer was the time when he felt like sharing details with someone so inferior to him. It had to be the fact that she had been made a direct part of his plans for the first time ever since L's death. Yes, that would do it. _She's just bored. Or maybe..._

"I've considered that. The problem is that Chiru Surotawa's background isn't entirely complete. I can't tell what would make him talk, only that he's against anything that would help Kira, like all the remaining evil people in this country. Just threatening to write his name in the notebook likely won't work, neither will promises that I'll spare his life. Not that I'd ever keep such a promise." On that note, he flipped the headset back over- Duval had finally reached the top floors where the secret office the Kira task force used was hidden. From Duval's eye cameras, they could see the place was just as Ide and the others had left it before Light had tasked them with tracking down more leads among criminals pertaining to the impostor-Kira. They wouldn't be back for another hour, at least. All the same, the faster Duval finished this and delivered Surotawa the better. Light did not hesitate even a moment before giving a new instruction after the completion of the old one. On the other side, the other man was equally efficent.

"There's a cutter in the pouch. Use it on the lock four windows to your left, one row up."

"Got it."

"Now, ease that one open slowly. Make sure you don't have any exposed skin when you step into the office." This precaution was not because Interpol's cameras were good enough to identify a man by skin, but because exposed skin vastly increased Duval's chances of leaving unwanted residue such as hair, fingerprints or sweat behind. Lord knew he had to be roasting inside that rubber mask.

"What about the cameras?"

"It's fine, they're not being monitored. No one will be able to tell who you are from the footage. Keep going until you see a blank gray door with a PIN pad next to it."

"Alright."

"Now enter the code 1893." Light bit back a smile at this bit of irony- using his own code would have been recorded just like the retinal scan... But this was actually Matsuda's code. _The idiot actually wrote it down so he wouldn't forget. All I had to do was move the slip of paper he used out of his locker and into the lounge area, giving Duval an alibi as to why he knew the code. _He sighed. It was a pity Duval couldn't steal Light's original Death Note out of the vaults while he was there, but such a thing required the PIN code of every remaining member of the Kira task force to be entered sequentially, as well as a retinal scan for each of them. No one was taking any chances with the one 'killer notebook' that L had managed to secure before his death.

The door finally clicked open and there he was. Chiro Surotawa, still dangerously handsome as Misa had said despite his having been held in the cell for nearly an entire day with minimal food and water. He might have been sleeping, but perked up instantly when the door opened. Blindfolded, just as Misa had been in that same cell and chair. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Only unbind his legs, and bring the ropes with you", Light cautioned. "Remember that he_ is _a wanted criminal. Even if you're taking him out of there, he won't hesitate to attack you and make his own way out. Take him to the elevator, but only go down to the third floor."

"Right." Ignoring further outbursts from Surotawa, Duval did as he was told, being careful to maintain a strong grip on the older man's shoulder at all times. Though he was blindfolded and had his arms tied tight, some struggles were all part of the deal when his masked abductor refused to speak a word of where they were going or why. Twice, Duval took a stray kick to the knees without complaint, then they entered the elevator and his captive seemed to calm down, not even swearing as much or asking questions.

"Anything's better than that cell", he reasoned aloud. "As for where we're going, I guess we'll see. Won't we, Mr. Bug Mask?"

Off-headset, Light cursed. Over time, Surotawa's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, so he could see through that blindfold well enough. He'd be able to see his face. Thankfully, this wasn't entirely unexpected. "Misa, it's late. You should go home now. Don't argue."

"But... ugh. Fine." Disappointed as she sounded, Light knew now it was all show; she would never directly disobey an order from him now. _Paranoid of me to ever think otherwise- for a moment there I thought__** she **__might have been the impostor-Kira, trying to get back at me in some dumb way for neglecting her. But no, there's no way she'd ever be cunning enough to pull something like this, even if I cheated on her and never spoke to her again. The only danger she poses to me would be through her own stupidity. I can get rid of her any time._

Misa was gone. On the monitor, Duval had brought his captive to the maze of cubicles on the third floor and now simply waited for further instructions from Light, without a clue what to do next. This was no secret task force, but the workspace of an everyday company.

"Alright. First, you lock Surotawa in the broom closet so he can't run off. After that, there's several couches in the break room. Throw the cushions out of the west window onto the street, checking first to make sure no one's outside to see it."

When had this happened? When exactly did it become apparent that no one around him, not even L, was as clever as he? Before the Death Note had come into his life he'd been at the top of his class to be sure, but... he'd never really applied most of the knowledge. What was the use when the world around him had been so blatantly corrupted by greed? Perhaps that was it then. If others around him had an important task as the one he'd vowed to perform at the beginning of it all... if true justice was on the line... they'd be able to outwit those who spent their lives pursuing trivialities like attractiveness or money. _Or perhaps Duval is wrong after all,_ he reasoned, _perhaps in doing all of these things I have indeed transcended the label of mere 'human'. Is that my doing, or the Death Note?_

"Now tie Surotawa's legs again with the rope and toss him out onto the cushions, then jump down after him."

No more self-questioning. Now that they were safely out of the building, it was about time for Light to find his own mask for the interrogation. Thankfully, Demegawa had provided an extra copy of the ugly bug mask Duval was currently wearing. With just a little elbow grease, he was able to get the headset beneath it so his words could be transmitted to both the other men once they put a headset on Surotawa.

Which left only one, final thing to take care of.

Touching its pages again sent an electric tingle through his arm. Though it was not- could_ never _be- the same as the notebook Ryuk had given him, that familiar feeling, the rush at the potential power contained within the book, black covers and stark white lettering proclaiming destruction to all who stood in his way, his pen hovering like an immortal's scythe waiting to strike... it was _almost_ exactly the same.

_It's been a while. Hope I haven't lost the touch._

-

The initial queries had not proven fruitful.

As Light had expected, Chiro Surotawa hated Kira for killing so many of his colleagues, for driving the remainder into hiding futilely, and most of all for the power he wielded over all human beings. Worse, he was smart enough to recognize that his confession would help restore people's faith in their God. Cracking him was not going to be simple, but Duval and Light- both of them now masked- were willing to remain there all night if they had to.

"We already know the truth, Surotawa", Light started in again, his voice still distorted past all recognition. "All we need for you to do is admit what you saw. Qatada Nejion died from the shock of a lost arm, didn't he? There was no poison gas. He bled out all over the floor, we found evidence enough of that."

"_Fuck you_. Again."

Standing next to the criminal, Duval sighed. Light had warned him not to say anything revealing since they were now all connected by wireless headsets, but that didn't stop him from having to listen to the other man's rude denials. _Perhaps I should've rearranged this setup, put Surotawa in a darkroom while we conducted things from in here. No helping it now._

"You know I can kill you on a moment's notice, but you probably haven't figured that I don't have to. Contrary to belief I am not entirely without mercy. Confess this one time, and I will consider you exempt from all your past crimes."

Surotawa actually _laughed_. "Gee... I didn't know that 'God' was a freakin' gestapo. How about this? You show up at a press conference and tell everyone your true name. When I see that happen, maybe, _maybe_ I'll do what you're asking." 'Freakin' was not exactly the word he used.

Light's anger at this suggestion spilled through even the vocal distortion. "This isn't a game, Surotawa. The impostor Kira- the one you know exists but don't want to admit to- is completely indiscriminate. He might target your friends next."

"Whatever", the man shrugged. "Still better than what you've been doing. Angry that this guy's putting you of a job, pal?"

_Almost got him to slip up there. If I can push a little harder..._

"Come to think of it", he mused aloud. "I'd bet money that the impostor was a plan made by criminals to turn my supporters-"

"-and _I'd_ bet money you're a damn cop", Surotawa interrupted snidely. "So go tell your buddies at Interpol it's over. You're done. No one's ever gonna trust you now."

_Arrogant bastard...! Still, he's let on a bit more than he wanted. He __**is**__ in on the impostor's agenda. And he's not really special in any way, so the impostor has talked with more than one criminal about his plan!_

"A conspiracy amongst several of you then? Perhaps _you_ are the creator of the 'Kira-Bombs', or one of the people who planted them. Either way, killing you might just hamper that plan."

Perhaps now realizing how Light had been playing him, the handsome crook struggled to get out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. "Just try it, you bastard! See what happens."

"Not yet, I think", Light countered, knowing he was close now. "You don't seem to care too much about your remaining buddies on the streets. But what about Mr. and Ms. Surotawa? Your sister, Akiha? I can kill them in less than a _minute_ unless you do as I say."

He wasn't bluffing either. He'd already taken the precaution of remaining behind the large crate he'd first mounted his laptop on, keeping the Death Note hidden behind it along with the pen now clutched in his hands. The wireless computer had made it child's play to locate the names and faces of this man's family. The chances that Duval would see the Death Note _and_ be able to deduce its purpose were as slim as he could possibly make them. Even if both of them had suddenly charged him there, Light had a gun; the one Duval had used on Misa. They had nothing.

Light smiled within his mask, confident that this bald-faced threat would at last bring forth the truth he so desperately sought... then ducked at the last second to avoid a good sized globule of spit Surotawa had hurled at him. Nonetheless, it still scored his shirt. Searing fury pounding through his temples, he took a moment to refresh his composure, and glared back at their insolent captive.

"I guess I was mistaken- you don't care for any of them. In fact, I think there's only one thing you truly care about at all in this world... take this."

The last two words were meant for Duval as Light tossed him a serrated knife. Only taking a moment to comprehend, the foreigner removed the blindfold and began lifting the sharp implement towards Surotawa's cheekbones.

Surotawa comprehended too, much to his own panic. "Wait. Don't do anything hasty here... I didn't mean it, I was just pissed off-"

"Start around his eyes. Go down to his chin."

Light would have expected most people to hesitate over this- hell, _he_ might have when doing it the first time- but Duval didn't stop, only moving slowly to avoid cutting the man any deeper than he wanted to.

"No... no... NO!"

Pleasingly, Duval stopped cutting without even being told to. He _knew_ the dramatic timing needed, just as he knew that they'd finally hit the man's one weak point. Surotawa's beautiful looks were the most important thing in the world to him... and using a knife on his _face _could have just been a prelude to more permanent forms of disfigurement in other areas of the body. "Do you have something to say?"

"I..." Surotawa slumped, now speaking with a hint of tears creeping into his face. "I give. Nejion lost his arm. He was screaming. We didn't know what to do, and he bled to death in less than a minute."

Not good enough. But they were close, so close... "The _evidence_, Surotawa. Where did you hide his body? Where did you hide the severed arm?"

Without warning, Ryuk flew into the warehouse through a wall. He didn't seem panicked, and even stopped to be amused at the sight of what Duval was doing to Surotawa. But Light knew something was up.

"Ryuk? Why are you here?"

Both the other humans looked back, understandably confused by the sight of Light talking to something that neither of them could see. "One moment then", Light told them as he recovered from the suprise, pulling up the lower portion of his mask so he could talk normally. "Ryuk, why are you here?"

The Shinigami chuckled infuriatingly. "Do I need a reason to come visit, Light? You've been having a fun party without me, I see."

"Don't play games. You came running in here. Why?"

Ryuk scratched his raven-blue hair for a moment, then gave a 'what-the-hell' gesture. "Well, uh, heheh, I noticed that there were some guys searching the buildings around here. Are they friends of yours?"

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath Light as that hit him. An organized team was searching the warehouses, not someone Ryuk recognized as an ICPO member... "We need to go. Now."

"What?!" Both men exclaimed.

"Just do it! I'll explain later!" Leaving Duval to re-bind their captive and move him out, Light ran back over, hurriedly closed the laptop and tucked it into his pack along with the Death Note-

Too late. Before any of them could leave the room, the large shutter door near Light's makeshift desk seemed to explode inward as a vehicle smashed through it, knocking him and Duval to the ground. In the time it took for them to stand again, two men in the same fancy suits Surotawa and his buddy had worn exited and brought their guns to bear.

Behind the mask, Light's eyes twisted in terror. _Can't let them get the Death Note! _Jumping behind a crate more out of luck than any strategy, he only then remembered he had the gun. Eight shots, minus the two Duval had used on Misa. Six. But it would have to be enough. _Can't let them get it! I... I must..._

_Unbelievable. Killer of thousands of criminals, God of the New World and I can't bring myself to fire a gun properly at someone?! _He wanted to scream. For all that he'd done, Light had little to no experience with firearms, and the first missed shot made both men duck behind cover of their own. _Damn it. Can't do this. If I could just remember their names from their faces... _One of them had a brown handbar mustache and wide blue eyes, while the other had darker skin, mirror shades and absurdly large white lips. Not enough to remember, although he had certainly seen at least one of the thugs in L's database. Across the way, Duval wasn't faring much better despite having found some cover- as he stood up, using Surotawa as a living shield, the one with the mustache smirked and shot Surotawa- and _through _him. Duval fell back behind his cover, likely wounded by the high-powered weapon penetrating their would-be informant.

Meanwhile, Mirror-shades wasn't giving Light much room to breathe either. _He_ could afford to empty entire clips at the crates or over them, forcing Light to keep his head down. _Just have to gamble, then. _Shutting out all other concerns, he pulled off the mask and began to write.

Four names later, he had to change cover again. The switch-over earned him a grazed leg for the trouble. Managing to avoid crying out in pain, Light looked up from the notebook, shoving it beneath a barrel. _Forty seconds. All I have to do is last forty seconds... _But one of the two had disappeared while he was busy. Duval had disappeared as well, leaving behind their dead witness. _Damn. He was about to crack, I know it! Have to-_

Too late, he heard the telltale sound of leather on metal. "Freeze, punk." Mirror-shades, on the other side of the crate, pointing his weapon. "Drop the gun."

_Thirty seconds. What if I'm wrong? What if none of those names were the right ones? If they get their hands on this... No. I'll burn it before letting criminals use it! _"A-alright."

Only when that was over did the man permit himself a little gloating, grabbing Light's chin and lifting his head up in an uncomfortable fashion. His neck ached. His leg seared. He couldn't break free. Behind Light, his partner had holstered his own weapon, walking closer. "Just a kid, aren't you?", he man observed in a throaty voice. "You never shot a person before, right kid? You have to hold it tight, make sure it doesn't stray. Anyways, I doubt anyone's going to care too much what we do with you, so I'll ask you only once- where's Kira?"

_Twenty seconds. _The fright he put into his reply wasn't entirely simulated. "I-I don't know. I'm from Interpol! I was trying to stop someone from making off with a witness against Kira! I swear I don't have anything to do with him!"

_Ten seconds. _Mustache laughed behind him. "What do think we are, kid? Stupid? We already know Surotawa was with Qatada last night, bastard would sell out his own mother for hairspray. Hell, you were probably the guy who took him out of there. Trying to help mommy Kira are we? Well-"

Without any preamble, Mirror-Shades pitched forward into the floor. Dead. In the time it took Mustache to yell "What the hell?!" Light had grabbed the other thug's gun and spun around. _No second chances. Have to hold it tight, make sure it doesn't stray, make sure it doesn't get away from you..._

Two shots rang out, overlapped into one. Mustache's knees buckled and he fell.

Owing to adrenalin, shock, or suspense, Light took several seconds to follow suit. Somewhere beneath his ribs a fire was spreading, rapidly depriving him of air and thought... But whatever fever dream he was plunging into was not enough to stop that same sixth sense he'd felt blossom before. Again, the shapeless void stood before him, cloaked in anonymity. Watching him choke on blood. Watching him fall.

It seemed to be smiling.

-

**Gods of death, the original owners of the Death Note, do not do, in principle, anything which will help or prevent the deaths in the note. **

**TBC**

-

M: No, Light's not dead. This **is** meant to be 'in-continuity', so to speak.


	3. Part 3 Immortal

**Disc: Death Note me own not. Also, the song in this chapter is the fine work of Aimee Man.**

**-**

**Part 3 - Immortal**

For the second time in as many nights, sunlight slowly peeking through blinds roused the God of the New World from a long sleep.

For the second time, upon waking he didn't feel particularly God-like. Someone had obviously found him, brought him to a hospital. The fires of anguish within his body persisted, but this time Light was ready for them. To his side, a simple pump with an IV line hooked into his left arm helped him withstand it. On the other side of the room, a young nurse stood waiting near a second bedpan, watching the life slowly return to his eyes with interest.

He felt lightheaded, but that cleared away in record time when he saw who else was in the room, watching him. Inspector Aizawa had been leaning back in a small chair, his eyes as curious as they always were around Light. "How lon-", Light coughed hard; talking changed the fires into miniature animals clawing at his ribcage. Whispering merely stoked them. "How long was I out?"

"Two days", Aizawa replied neutrally. "We saw the thug's car on our way back. Do you remember how you got shot?"

Light studied the white tiles beneath his bedpan. In any other situation he would have been able to weave as many flawless lies as needed to deflect suspicion. As it was, he had to whisper quietly, take it slowly to avoid any contradictions. "There was a guy in an insect mask", he started, pretending to be slowly dredging up memories that still seemed hazy and unclear. It wasn't hard to pretend. "He took Surotawa. I saw him on my way back from dinner with Misa."

"Not yet", an elderly man Light presumed to be a doctor interrupted him, as he entered. "I'd prefer to at least get a reading on this young man's EKG before you start interrogating him."

"It's fine", Light said, briefly stopping the doc examining the machines' various readouts. "I can talk now. I just can't walk. And besides, I have a feeling this is important."

The doctor hestitated for only a moment, sighed and gestured his okay. Nodding, Aizawa continued. "The guy who took Surotawa climbed the building on the outside and cut his way in on the main floor. He knew _exactly_ where our headquarters was, Light! _Exactly_where we were keeping Surotawa!"

"But... how did he open the cell door?"

Aizawa shifted uncomfortably. "I'll tell you later. When you're better. Right now, I just need your recollection of what happened at the warehouse."

It felt like something was sloshing around his lungs and throat. Light tried hard to ignore it. "I chased down the one who had Surotawa. Tried to shoot him. But he had a friend, another guy in a mask. He shot me."

"Well. You put on a good show, Light", Aizawa slowly commented, standing grimly mover the bed. "But it's over now."

_What?! How could he possibly know-_

"I should've seen it sooner. You tried to be a hero, working so hard to make a difference in this case. I know you took L's death especially hard; you swore to avenge his death, didn't you? We didn't even realize until we found you bleeding. For all you've done with this task force, you've never used a gun, never been shot at either I think. Right?"

Exhale. He_ wasn't _talking about the Death Note after all. It was still safe where he'd hidden it. "That's... right. I haven't really witnessed much violence firsthand... unless you count the time I fought L."

Aizawa chuckled at the weak jest, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "That _was_ funny to watch, wasn't it? But with how smart and dedicated to this case you seem normally, sometimes we forget... just how young you are. I'm sorry, Light."

"Don't be, Aizawa", the younger man countered as strongly as he could in his condition, trying not to shiver or cough as he spoke. "I knew the risks when I joined up. Hell... I saw L die with my own eyes back there, thinking that any one of us could be next."

Inwardly, Light couldn't help smirking. It helped absolve his pain. _He's __**nothing. **__He's like a big fuzzy father bear. Still far too sympathetic, still worried about overstressing me with my injuries, still worried about destroying our 'friendship', at a time when I couldn't be more vulnerable. Hah! You may try, Aizawa, but you will __**never **__catch me so long as you play by those rules. _"I'm the one who should apologize- I wasn't thinking clearly. I should've called it in before running after them like an idiot. Like you said, I'm not used to shooting it out with criminals."

"It's fine", Aizawa replied, clasping his hands with Light's. "It's fine. I'll call your dad, try and soften him up a little. Is that okay, Light?"

"Go ahead."

With that, the man turned, seemingly about to leave when he stopped. "Oh yeah. Almost forgot." Reaching back into his coat, he produced a simple white card and placed it in Light's hands. "Just a little something Matsuda and Mogi thought of. We'll keep in touch, Light."

He didn't linger too long on the card. Typical 'get-well-soon' fare, laced with the signatures of the entire task force except for his off-duty father. Not suprisingly, Matsuda's took up the most space and included an apology straight from the heart. _Even though I'm not even supposed to know how they broke Surotawa out yet_. Light chuckled faintly. "So. What's the problem, doctor?"

His nurse had left, but the elderly labcoat was still intent on the readings, not even looking up at his patient. "You're a _very_lucky man, Mr. Yagami." _Don't I know it. _"If that shot had been another few centimeters to the left it would've hit your spine. We extracted the bullet before you woke up. As it is, you've got sporadic internal bleeding all down that side and a crushed rib to boot."

"Hence the bandages", Light reasoned amiably, craning his neck to check the doc's nametag- _J. RUIKI_.

"Hence the bandages", Dr. Ruiki echoed. "I must say, you're responding much better than most of my patients considering this is the first time you've been seriously injured before."

"Don't compliment me yet. How long do I have to stay here, doc?"

Ruiki hesitated, either reluctant or uncertain. "Three weeks at least before you can safely walk, Mr. Yagami. But I'd say you can leave here tomorrow night if everything else checks out. We've got top-of-the-line handicap assistance. Of course, to play it safe-"

"-not really one to play it safe", Light cut in. "I've still got a job to do." Perfectly spoken, the very picture of a prodigous, determined young man still striving to get back to his sworn duty, complete with a little tremor in his voice at the end, to hint that he might well kill himself doing it. _I should've gone into theatre._

"You are _badly_injured, Mr. Yagami. You're not going to catch Kira if you can't even stand up."

"Wait... what?"

Ruiki winked. "Suprised I know of your mission? I'm a part of the task force too. New recruit. The government's been very good about supplying you while you were out- they just shipped in two new cars to replace the ones you lost, _and_ a helicopter. Three guesses as to why."

So that was why Aizawa didn't seem worried talking about Kira or Surotawa with witnesses in the room. "Then this is...!"

Right on cue, Ruiki pulled the blind and Light saw the familiar sight of the Tokyo skyline. Not two or three floors beneath him like he'd expected of a public hospital. More like ten or twelve floors. Seagulls breezed past the window, oblivious.

"This isn't the ICPO headquarters", he noted after a long pause.

"Oh, it is", the doctor countered. "But it wasn't until yesterday."

-

Misa came, of course. So did Duval. Everyone who still held true to his cause, everyone in the ICPO, came to pay their respects and condolences. For once, Light welcomed the distraction of their unimportant prattlings. It helped get his mind off the frusturation he felt at not being able to even leave the room under his own power.

As for the _other _frusturations, well... he couldn't show them too closely. Ruiki had obligingly provided him with a TV, so he could witness events regardless the impostor-Kira's unchecked moves firsthand. There was a part of him that wished he hadn't.

Three days. Three days, and the killings had not stopped. No one was safe from the impostor's touch. A family of four, settling down to only a few bites of their final meal. A chef at a restaurant, facedown in his potpourri. A blind man and his seeing-eye dog, bound together in death.

_And I can't stop it_, he fumed deep within. _All the power of the Death Note, all my remaining allies waiting on my word and I CAN'T STOP IT. _No plan, no matter how elaborate, could make his crushed ribs heal themselves faster. No words from Kira would stop the impostor from continuing to kill innocents. _Even CHILDREN. _His hands clenched up, nearly drawing blood over that. Ice-cold rage thundered through him that seemed impossible for a single mortal body to contain. Indeed, he was shaking again.

_Enough. Don't think that way, it's defeatist thinking. Think of a way to safely contact the others. Think of how I'm going to __**win**__._

Independent of his own thoughts, the room seemed to shake. The change of position had them close enough to an airport that several planes came by here every day. He could even see the culprit through the window.

_The problem_, he decided inwardly, _is that since L died, I've been relying too much on the Death Note's power and not on my own intelligence. More specifically, the abilities that tricked Rem into killing L for me. Aizawa's right; I'm not cut out for big shootouts with crooks. Impossible to even think clearly with all that noise._

Priorities. He had no doubt in his mind that this room was bugged, even if Aizawa had never visited him. He would need to have the doctor move him to a new room, preferably without Aizawa knowing. Again his chest ached powerfully, as if anticipating the strain changing rooms would place on his still-healing body, but it couldn't be helped. Right on cue, the other factor to his plan to reestablish communications with his allies appeared through the window. The Shinigami Ryuk, looking very, very bored.

"No one in this city is any fun anymore", he complained loudly to anyone who could hear. "They all just run home and lock their doors, so afraid that 'Kira's' gonna get them. Phooey." He glanced back at Light, who had been scribbling something on scrap paper before holding it up to him. _Can't talk to you; room is bugged. But I'm glad to see you._

The Shinigami raised his eyebrow. "Heh. Me too Light, but I kind of doubt hanging out here will be very fun right now either. Looks like you're in quite the spot actually. I liked that shootout though. Just like the human movies."

_Actually I have something you might be interested in. I know you haven't helped me directly very often but this time I need your allegiance, Ryuk. I need you as a messenger until I walk again._

Floating there over the bedpan, he pretended to mull it over. "Uh... welll.... heheh. What's in it for me?"

Light didn't take long this time- just one word. _APPLES._

Trying unsuccessfully to hide his licking lips, Ryuk peered closer. "I'm listening. Or rather, watching. Heh."

_If you help me now I promise to buy you an apple for every message you bring to my allies. If I break this promise, you can put my name in your notebook._

Again, the crazed-looking Shinigami made a show of mulling it over. But in the end, there could only be one result- Light had predicted his reaction long before he'd arrived. "Ah, what the hell. What have I got to lose by getting you out of that boring bedpan faster, eh? When do I start?"

_Not yet. I have to transfer out of this building first. Then I'll tell you, and we can get started._

"Started?"

That familiar feeling, flooding his being. Like ice-cold syrup, but even that failed to do it justice. How he'd missed it. _Now_ he had a plan. He nodded back, held up one last note before crumpling them up into a ball and tossing them out the window the doctor had opened for him long before. _Yes. It's past time I stopped shitting around with this impostor. When we're done this plan, I'll know his true name. You'll have to teach me the single most agonizing fate to write in the Death Note for him. _

And the Shinigami laughed and laughed. "Sounds... interesting."

-

It took the rest of the next day for him to regain contact with the rest of the elements to The Plan. Lingering there at the temporary ICPO headquarters might have allayed suspicion but he couldn't afford any delays on a _maybe_. It was only once Light arrived at the flat he and Misa shared that he laid down each move in earnest. Even there, in the only room he could be certain was _not_ bugged, he required several moments merely to settle down and think.

_Not used to being crippled, _he mused unhappily over the feel of his temporary motorized transportation. His legs ached dimly. The motorized chair worked well enough, taking each curve smoothly, but was still uncomfortably small. He'd used it as an excuse to come back to Ruiki tomorrow and change chairs, but for now the confinement threw him somewhat. _But enough feeling sorry for myself. Step 1: Negotiations._

"Ryuk. It's time."

Behind and above the toilet, the cackling Shinigami poked his head through a window. "Good. I was getting bored again. What am I gonna do, Light?"

Facing him, the young man stared hard into his eyes, momentarily remembering back to how freaked out he'd been the first time he'd seen Ryuk's bizarre form, death-pale skin and yellow eyes. "Before I go further, I need a confirmation from you. Something I've suspected for a while, but I never had reason to ask you about until now."

Gliding up to stand on the white ceiling, Ryuk tilted his head. "Shoot."

"You Shinigami have existed for millenia. Since the human race began, or longer. Your kind have crossed paths with humans many times before, right?"

"Uh, yeah", Ryuk puzzled, failing to see where this was going.

"So, many legends of sorcery or supernatural beings in the distant past that may seem far fetched to us now, vampires, ghosts, demons... may have actually been directly or indirectly caused by a Shinigami. You can possess humans, can't you?"

The glowing yellow globes widened considerably at that. "Well. Heheh. Yeah. _Technically_. Never done it myself, though."

Light smiled. _Bingo. _"So what stopped you? Surely it would be fun to watch the reaction when someone famous suddenly starts clucking like a chicken?"

Ryuk's head rose. "Hehehehahah! That's _hilarious_, Light! I always knew you had it in ya! Are we going to do that to that fat producer guy? Please say yes."

Light shook his head. "No. We're keeping Demegawa out of this one for now. He's useful, but he only cares for the prestige I bring his network, nothing else. The more 'Kira-bombs' go off, the worse my reputation becomes, the more likely he is to betray us. Back to business- there _are_ limitations on this, aren't there?"

Ryuk scratched his black mane. "Yeah. That's sorta why I haven't ever been able to yet. The person's got to be able to see me, has to know my name. They got to have made the deal for Shinigami eyes, or at least made some sort of deal like that with a Shinigami. And they gotta willingly surrender themselves. At least, that's what I remember. I was sleeping they day they taught us that."

_Right. It's just a larger-scale version of the Shinigami eyes, where they implant a small portion of their own power into the person in exchange for cutting their lifespan in half... probably has a similar side-effect too. _"None of that is a problem."

"Oh yeah! And I can't do it to the same person twice. I think. Maybe."

"Again, not a problem. This makes things simpler." He leaned back on the motorized chair's aching cushions, finalizing a dozen niggling details in the course of a few seconds. "I'll need you to do that soon. The person will invite you into their body willingly. I'll tell them to."

Now genuinely curious, Ryuk climbed down from the ceiling. "Sounds good. About my payment..."

"It's in the kitchen. Just don't take them out of the bag."

With a delighted whoop, he ran for the kitchen, automatically reminding Light of an old figure of speech where someone would 'work for peanuts'. _Step 2: Diversion. _For the first time in days, the vocal-distortion phone was at his lips, which he licked to clean away disuse. For a moment though, Light hesitated. Was he trusting too much? This person's commitment to the cause wasn't fully proven yet, like Duval's was. A betrayal from them could destroy the plan, and in turn, his dreams of a New World. Forever.

_No. _There were no other options now. No one else still loyal to him could do this part of the plan. Letting indecision paralyze him now would defeat him just as completely as the impostor's dark moves. _Just have to gamble, and hope. _He would not pray.

-

By the next morning, it was done. The first phase, anyway. Everyone had been notified of their roles. All that remained was Light's own, almost trivial move. In order to convince the ICPO beyond all doubt that he'd had no part in what was to come, he would return to the makeshift hospital, complaining of great pains in his lower torso. This was only partially a lie. He'd been registered for a new, more comfortable chair anyway- all this did was keep him in the same room for the duration of the day, unable to contact anyone. _Trust me to take a severe injury and turn it into an advantage._

All the same, he was feeling morose as the nurse helped him out of the chair and into a bedpan. If everything went according to plan, he'd _win_. The creator of the 'Kira-Bombs' would be killed. He could continue his work. If not...

If this didn't work, the vow he'd made when he first found the Death Note would be broken. The government, pressured by the growing numbers of innocent victims, would not rest until they'd finally tracked down Kira. They'd find him someway, lock him up forever or execute him. Criminals and corrupt officials would slowly, tenatively return to their evil work, unpunished. The world of Kira would become a fading dream, until everything had reverted back to the way things had been before he found the Death Note. It would be as if he had never existed, never inspired millions of people looking for a better way of life, never killed thousands of evil people who were beyond redemption... never tricked and killed the amoral boy genius who went by the alias 'L'. All of it would pass. It would all have been for nothing.

_Not today_, he maintained adamantly, staring hard out the window towards the rising sun. _Not if I can help it._

Nearly-consumed with apprehension, Light almost didn't notice that there was someone else in the room across from his. Someone else on a bedpan, watching TV loud enough so that he could hear muffled words; someone shouting angrily, swearing, ranting.

No matter. He'd still be able to watch his own TV when the time came for the first move. His first instinct was to switch it on now, and drown out the noise from the other room. In fact his hand was centimeters from the button when the ranting stopped.

A song had taken over, its melancholy stirrings a prelude to English lyrics. Light had never heard it before... but somehow, unlike the angry cussing from before, these words came across clearly, as though they were meant for only him. He would not join in; dignity aside, he had zero musical aptitude. But at the same time, he could not ignore the melancholy song, could not stop it from taking his mind back to happier times...

_It's not_

_What you thought_

_When you first began it_

_You got_

_What you want_

_Now you can hardly stand it though,_

_By now you know._

_It's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_'Til you wise up._

_You're sure_

_There's a cure_

_And you have finally found it_

_You think_

_One drink_

_Will shrink you 'til you're underground_

_And living down_

_But it's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_'Til you wise up._

It was_ time_. Without any further delay he snatched up his own TV remote and flipped it to Channel 6. Right there, just where and when he'd been instructed, was Bergan Duval. He wore a black matte suit and tie, at once fancier and more somber than anything Light had seen him wear before now. Dozens of microphones clustered beneath the podium he stood upon- no doubt more than one channel had responded to his request for a press conference, one final statement by one of Judgement's hosts. Half the city had to be watching. With any luck, someone from the ICPO headquarters only a few floors above Light would be watching, too.

"Of course now, more than ever, it's important to prove that what I say is true, that_ I _speak the truth to you, the people", the blond foreigner began in his own tongue, ignoring several annoying flashbulbs now going off at the back of the studio foyer. _"_I realize now that I can no longer turn a blind eye to the deaths of innocents. Even if their deaths are not my direct doing, the fact remains it would not have happened had I not attempted to save this world from its own corruption._"_

Thankfully, no one had gotten annoyed with the overly tangental way Duval was having to arrive at his point. Indeed, they were actually hanging on his every word, awestruck. With a long blink, he stroked his pale chin and continued.

"But we have not been defeated. The precedent has still been set. Even after today, I_ implore _everyone who shared in my vision to keep trying to make it reality. A _Perfect World_... the thing that I strived for for so long. That's right. I am... Kira. And I surrender myself to the Japanese police force."

Light nodded in satisfaction even as the crowd instantly broke into mass panic worthy of the apocalypse. _Yes. This is how it starts._

_Prepare a list of what you need_

_Before you sign away the deed_

_'Cause it's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_It's not going to stop._

_'Til you wise up._

_No, it's not going to stop_

_'Til you wise up._

_No, it's not going to stop_

_So just... give up._

-

**Whether the cause of the written individual's death is either a suicide or accident, if the death leads to the death of more than the one intended, then the person will simply die of a heart attack. This is to ensure that other lives are not influenced. **

**TBC**

**-**

**M: I debated for a while about putting that song in, but it seemed so fitting for the situation at hand. I could think of any number of songs that might also fit with DN's various dark themes, particularly those of 'Shakespeare's Last Night'. Let me know if you found it good or not, and I may include another.**

**Also if anyone cares, I made up the Shinigami ability to possess humans solely for this fic. Considering the wild legends sprinkled throughout human history, in a world where Shinigami are real it's only natural.**


	4. Part 4 Infamy

**Disc: I don't own Deathnote.**

**-**

**Part 4 - Infamy**

"That's right. I am... Kira. And I surrender myself to the Japanese police force."

"Bull. Freaking. Shit.", Aizawa announced in chagrin. Were anyone else here watching the broadcast with him, he'd look around, challenging them to deny it. But now he was alone, on the top floor of a headquarters that still felt unfinished, watching the police cut through the crowd to handcuff a young man who had given himself to them without a fight.

_It's bullshit. Kira spoke Japanese much more fluently than Bergan Duval does from the very first time that he spoke publicly. __**And**__Duval didn't even arrive in Japan until five months ago. He __**can't **__be Kira. It's impossible._

Now Duval was passing out of the camera's sight, herded down the steps by at least four cops and hounded by three times that many reporters. At least whoever was in charge there knew the likely results of such a proclamation- other cops were roving through the crowd, watching them, trying to stop someone from pulling a gun and shooting 'Kira' right then and there.

"Whatever reward you're after, boy, I hope it was worth it", Aizawa mused unhappily, leaning against the window bank. He knew just as well as the unnamed constabulary that this was only the start of their troubles.

No matter where they hid Duval, no matter how many guards they posted to protect him, he would be at constant risk from the tens of thousands of people who had lost friends and family to Kira's deadly notebook, both innocent and non. "You'll never be safe again, even in the strongest, most secure prison in the world. What the hell are you thinking?"

"Duval endangers himself because he believes in _me_", a timpani voice came forth from the darkness. As the inspector wheeled around, gun unholstered in less than a second, the speaker stepped into his view.

He almost dropped it in shock. Standing there was none other than Misa Amane. Though her stance was radically changed from anything he'd seen her do, and she wore a wide dark ball gown beneath a lace corset, he could never forget her face after spending so much time investigating her. Matsuda's client. Light's girlfriend. And most importantly, one of the people who had been a prime suspect to be Kira until L's demise.

But other things were different with her, too. Where her eyes had once been petite brown and reflective, they now bore irises of blood red the size of marbles. Coupled with this, and the way her hair had been done up with ribbons and dyed pale, it looked most like she'd gone overboard dressing up as the vampire queen for Halloween.

All of these jarring changes had only affected his aim for a split-second, however. In an instant, he raised the barrel cautiously. "_You_ told him to do that?!"

As if he didn't been off-kilter enough, she now smiled in a way that did not suggest her former childish innocence or even standard mental health. "Not this one. This is the _real_Kira speaking. I'm merely controlling Misa Amane's body, so I can talk with you in-person, Inspector. Oh sorry, _Chief _Inspector."

Aizawa scoffed. "Controlling? Yeah right. Are we supposed to believe you're Duval as well?"

And yet... the way she spoke now was not entirely her own voice. In his long career, Aizawa had always had a good ear for when people were faking things like injuries or sympathy. It was part of why he didn't like watching fictional TV programs- he saw through all but the best of actors in a way that ruined the show for him. But this time... every instinct in him agreed that this _wasn't_just Misa Amane trying to do a scary voice, but something more. Unconsciously, he checked for wires and microphones anywhere on her the voluptous dress she wore.

"You've seen the power of the notebook firsthand, Chief Inspector Aizawa. This isn't the first time you've encountered powers that are beyond the normal way of things. In fact, Misa Amane _did_ write some names in the notebook before L captured her. I was controlling her to make her do it."

He'd play along for now. If this truly was 'Kira', and he was going to kill him using the notebook, he would have done it long ago. "Why? Do you just have a thing for leaping into the bodies of cute little girls?"

She didn't flinch at the disgust he'd worked into that accusation. "Merely covering my tracks. As L himself suspected, my power can be used to control any person below a certain age. I believe you know another one I used for a long while- Light Yagami."

_**Light...? **__Him too? Was he just a puppet this whole time? And L __**did**__once theorize that Kira could control other people as well as kill them, which would explain why Light and Misa didn't have any memories of their using the notebook, despite strong evidence that they had... _"How nice of you to tell me all this. But that doesn't explain why you're here now."

Misa-Kira studied the gun barrel, still smiling creepily. "I come to offer a truce, inspector. Duval's arrest is part of a plan I'm enacting to catch the impostor who has been killing innocents in my name. But it won't work if he's killed before he reaches the Kotobuki Penitentiary. He needs protection. Beyond that, I would appreciate your help in catching the impostor, and ending his killing spree."

Struggling to avoid relaxing the gun now, Aizawa threw his head back and actually _laughed_, mocking and bitter. He'd been operating under thick veils of suspicion too long not to appreciate the irony. "So you can go back to your own killing sprees, right? To make a 'Perfect World'? What, were you just _hoping_ that I'd forget that _YOU _are the one who **murdered** L because he challenged you?! I may not like what this impostor does, but you're at least as bad as he is, even if you are who you say you are. Go to hell!"

"Chief Inspector", Misa-Kira countered evenly. "Did you forget why you joined the police force?"

"No", he echoed breathlessly. "I haven't."

"You know that if the impostor continues unchecked, he'll continue to kill many more innocents. I didn't say you had to agree with my methods, I'm just saying that having one mystery killer around is better than two. Particularly since only _one_ of us targets children."

Aizawa scoffed. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, huh? How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"

"It's obvious now that I know about the ICPO, inspector. I even know all the names of the task force members. Just like with L, I could have killed you all at any time, but I didn't. You're only doing your job. Or are you still skeptical that it _is_me... and not merely Miss Amane?"

He looked up, gaped. Misa had drawn a cutting knife from her pocket, serrated and long. Before he could act, she brought the blade up to her chest and slowly began pressing inwards. Drops of dark blood began to dot the carpet.

"Alright stop", he snapped, bolting over to try and stop a potential suicide. "Stop it, STOP IT! Drop the blade! Now!"

"If you say so."

Looking hard at the slash wound she'd already made before he could stop her, Aizawa wondered if he was already too late. The discarded knife had left a four-centimeter slit in the very center of the girl's flat stomach, from which a thin but persistent trickle of red flowed. And she was still _standing_. As if nothing at all had happened!

"You didn't have to do that", he admonished her, trying in vain to get her to walk with him to the hospital wing.

"Yes I did", Misa-Kira replied, showing no signs of collapse, eyes wide and red as ever. "You needed proof that I was speaking the truth. So I had to make Miss Amane do something that she would never do of her own will. Do we have a truce, inspector?"

_You... damned... sadistic... BASTARD_. Strong revulsion rose within his chest, revulsion both for what he knew he had to do, and for the very idea that Kira could inhabit the bodies of Japan's youths... make them do his bidding, perform his murders, jump off buildings against their own will, and more. Children not much older than his own, forced to be this evil being's sock puppets. _Even Light Yagami... no wonder the bugs didn't yield anything. Kira's done with him for now. _If it were truly Kira's body here with him in the lounge, Aizawa knew that he would shoot him through the heart without hesitation for all he had done.

But it wasn't. It was undeniably the body of a friend. A friend, and an innocent young girl. Neither could he deny the very bedrock of his job, his duty. When it all came down to it, to allow a aimless killer to continue to operate and slaughter innocents, all for the sake of a personal grudge against Kira... would make him no better than the one that he pursued so eagerly. _L __**would **__agree to this. He's worked with less-than-savory allies in his time, such as the Yotsuba group. And not even Kira is perfect; this could be the chink in his armor we've been waiting for. _The revulsion and fury he felt came out in a long, exhausted sigh. "Alright, 'Kira'. You have your alliance... for _now_. The ICPO is at your disposal. But the moment this matter is settled..."

Misa-Kira said nothing to acknowledge. She simply fainted, out like a light before her knees hit the floor. Curiously opening one unconcious eyelid, he was not at all suprised to see that the firey red globes that had replaced her eyes were gone without a trace, back to the innocent crystals he was familiar with. The same would likely be true for her memory of their conversation.

-

Duval had plenty of time to get familiar with his cell. A fairly spartan affair running along the backstretch of corridor behind the local JPD station's meeting room. Evenly-spaced bars cut him off from the corridor, leaving him with only a dusty toilet and window, also barred. It clearly wasn't intended for long-term stays; one night at the very most.

The auburn-haired constabulary Jirai Leshima, his voice now barely audible in the meeting room as he went over the new security regulations they needed to work with so long as they held the most wanted killer in the world in their station, had saved his life. True to expectations, more than one of the people who had been in the Channel 6 foyer for his announcement had murder in their eyes once they'd digested the truth. Only a rigorous guard of four armed cops had prevented them from simply overwhelming anything less and killing him. _Just as predicted. Kira's publicity has quickly degenerated into hatred. Particularly now that he's been revealed as nothing but a mere mortal man... me._

And this wasn't the worst of it either- both he and Leshima knew that much. As ordered, the broadcast had been made to reach the largest number of people. Every criminal Kira hadn't already dealt with likely knew by now that their longtime tormentor was now being held there for one night only- the national guard was to arrive in the morning- in a weak prison with a thousand ways in or out for one suitably driven to vengeance. No cop, no reporter or civilian could be completely trusted in his presence. Even now, Constable Leshima was assigning three separate officers to watch over Duval's cell. None of them would be allowed to carry guns. Tonight, these three would spend more time watching each other for sudden moves than they would him.

He slumped down in a corner. All in all, the plan seemed to be going off without a hitch. At least, _his_part of the plan. It was true that Kira had continued to play things close to the chest for this plan, only alerting him to what he had to say and a time and place for him to say it. Others might have protested. Duval knew he was just being _smart. _The chance for betrayal had never been higher; compartmentalizing information like this as a precaution had been done long before any of them had been born. If old Leshima couldn't hold back the storm, if he let Duval die... well, hopefully it wouldn't come to that. But chances would still be high that it was a part of Kira's metagame.

Feeling the last of the sun's rays filter off his back, he looked over and regarded the two cops assigned to watch just outside the cell, with a third one in the corridor. "So. Anyone for poker?"

Neither of the cops were amused. In fact, the left one- a tall man with a small brown mustache and glasses- looked as though he was about to try and strangle Duval through the bars. "I'm impressed you're able to make jokes, considering where you're going", his younger partner remarked grimly on the right side, now changing over into English. "Compared to Kotobuki, this place is heaven. So I'd brush up on your mental solitaire, _gaijin-bastard_."

Duval sighed. What he was doing wasn't likely to make the situation any better. On the other hand he'd prefer dangerous missions like infiltrating ICPO headquarters to being bored out of his skull in a room utterly devoid of stimulating material. _Kira won't mind, I'm sure. _"See, now _you've_ got a sense of humor. What's _his_ excuse?"

"People tend to lose their sense of humor around their father's killer", the young guy explained tonelessly. "He was one of the very first to die."

"Then he was also a criminal."

The glasses-wearing cop exploded into action, beyond reason, beyond rage. He'd been the one with the keys, but it wasn't long before his partner and the third cop out in the hall managed to overpower him. Even Leshima joined in restraining the man, for once looking uncertain of just how difficult keeping 'Kira' alive for one night was going to be. Duval tuned out the curses and yelling echoing down the hallway and tried to get some sleep in the space opposite the toilet.

He did not have to wait long. The inner voice that had helped him get this far had not spoken in a long time, but here it was insistent:

**Watch out. Humans heading your way. The police won't be able to stop them.**

He turned and saw Leshima scrambling to get out his key ring, frantic enough to miss the proper key once. "This had better not be your doing- even I have my limits", he warned darkly as he swung the door open and rushed the younger man out of the cell and down the hall.

"You shouldn't waste your time with empty threats", Duval countered casually. "What's wrong?"

"Helicopter", the constable explained hurriedly. "Came in from the east side, aiming for-"

**Duck.**

He stopped, the better to let the telltale whistling sound of an incoming missile say everything he'd needed to in order to get the point across. The better to grab the boy and run from the lounge before tides of crimson-black fire ripped it apart.

-

"They're not done", Chief Inspector Aizawa informed his pilot. "Get me a shot."

Up ahead of him in the seat of their own helicopter, Ide could not help but stare in something between amazement and fear. Half the precinct before them had just gone from being a fortified building staffed by Japan's finest to a smouldering crater, releasing the resulting smoke upwards in a death-black cloud that drifted above the tallest skyscrapers. Only about a hundred meters away- it was difficult to make exact measurements in midair- the culprit hovered, arcing away from a dozen returning shots from the police. So long as the gunner and pilot stayed within that reinforced shell of metal, chances that the cops would get them were slim to none.

And they _weren't done_. Even as the fires raged across the dessicated structure, the criminal-operated chopper turned towards the large courtyard near the entryway, better exposing the massive red Kanji marked on its fuselage that stood for 'Light'. Either it was military-issue, or its owners had long ago modified it with the rotary five-missile rack that it carried beneath the left wing like an Apache. But now it was the chopper's other weapon, the machine gun protruding from beneath the cockpit, which it used to clear the square of intervening cops. Off to the side, a second missile fired off towards a target Ide could not see behind the smoke.

All of this madness was not exactly conductive to flying a helicopter for someone who had only recently finished the lessons prescribed to him. Yet behind his seat, near their copter's large slide-away doors, the chief had lost none of his resolve. He kept motioning, directing Ide around the other one.

"You're aware that we have _no weapons_, boss?", he called back, terrified curiosity finally outweighing professional restraint. "We get in their way, we'll be nothing but a fireball. That is, if the police don't mistake us for enemies first."

Aizawa, snapped his phone shut and regarded him coolly. "It's fine. We've got weapons. Just get up on the side there, close enough so I can see."

"You're going to try to shoot them with your sidearm?!"

"That's right. Now fly."

He cursed under his breath. He'd signed on to catch Kira, not protect some dumb kid who pretended to be him from armed criminals. Beneath them, the burning chaos the explosions had caused was making it impossible to tell who had escaped the attack, or if Duval was still alive at all. The chopper's central turret was zeroing in on the cops, making them stop to take cover behind their cars, or in some cases, just burning rubble. _I knew his confession would bring down the thunder, but __**this**__... is beyond anything I imagined. It's like a war. They must be beyond desperate to kill Kira!_

Of course, the ICPO alone knew that the former host from Judgement Channel wasn't, could not possibly be, the mysterious killer that L had chased for so long. He was merely a stand-in, driven by loyalty to Kira's cause. _Which means everyone who dies down there tonight died in vain... No. They died because of Kira putting Duval up to this. There's no other explanation._

_...Damn him. _

"Closer, Ide."

"Roger."

Unfortunately, his sudden shift to the side had caught their attention. Firing off the third missile to deter anyone trying to escape the warzone, the 'Light' copter swivled as well so that both vehicles faced each other. Instantly understanding the move, Ide shifted right, put all his weight into it. By the time they could raise the turret to shoot straight instead of a downward angle, they'd crossed over to the other side, only ten meters or so separating their side doors.

Without missing a beat, Aizawa threw his door open and fired on their cockpit with his pistol. Any more instructions he might have shouted now would be drowned out by the twin rotors, leaving Ide to his own devices. Which was fine, because doing anything other than constantly swerving left would let them turn inside and ventilate Ide anyway. The other pilot was experienced, and refused to lose control even once both vehicles were tightly circling each other. It was Ide who blinked first, overturning and nearly losing control altogether. In the time it took to regain balance, the other chopper had angled on their rear.

Frantic, Ide craned his neck to yell to his boss, a scream of warning, a plea to close the door... But nothing happened. Bullets sounded out at speeds only attainable by auto-fire, but no small holes opened up behind them, no clanks or signs of their rear being affected. Had they just changed their target?

Without being told, Aizawa jumped towards the copilot's seat to make himself better heard. "I got the turret. Knocked it off balance, only took seven shots. Now they're going to have to open their side door to shoot at us. When they do, you're going to have to pull alongside them!"

"W-what are you going to do? If you open the door, they'll kill you!"

But the older man shook his head. "It's fine. I only need a few seconds' opening."

_This is crazy._

Sure enough, it didn't take long for the other pilot to figure out that their turret was jammed. Before them, the chopper's side door swung open to reveal two young men in suits nearly identical to Qatada Nejion's men from the alley. Glock fire and smoke riddled the pilot's area, and Ide flinched. To continue veering from here was suicide, but stopping for even a moment would let them bring the missile rack into line-of-sight.

Fortunately, the two gunners had become focused on shooting the vulnerable spots on the ICPO vehicle. They hadn't expected anyone to swing that chopper's own door open and leave the passengers within spitting distance of another, nor an assailant that threw a pink vidphone at them instead of bullets. Just as quickly, Aizawa ducked behind the metal and pushed it closed again. "Alright! Get us out! They might chase us! Stay low!"

Without looking up, he obeyed. But the other vehicle did not give chase, was not even bothering to reply to the potshots the cops were still taking. All their remaining weapons were now trained on a pair of fleeing figures in the distance.

"They _know._", Aizawa breathed behind him in the copilot's chair. "They must have someone on the inside to tell them who to look for. Thirty seconds."

"No big surprise", his friend remarked grimly. "But what can we do?"

"_This_."

Without any sign he grabbed the stick from Ide's hands and sped towards the other copter, passing in front of it just as it was taking aim, and soaking up dozens of shots in the process- Ide could _hear_ the metal beneath their feet being eaten away in a hundred violent 'tink' noises.

For the first time ever, Ide wanted to throttle his partner, but settled on pushing him out of the pilot's area with his free hand. What did he think they were, action heroes? Though he obviously could sense Ide's indignation, Aizawa stuck around behind the seats, still watching the other chopper as it turned to bring its missiles to bear on constable Leshima's car. "Twenty seconds."

_This is very crazy..._

"We're NOT blocking a missile. This is out of our league! This is something the army should be doing!"

"Just ram them off target. In fifteen seconds it won't matter."

Ide cursed, but lined up with the other vehicle's back rotor anyway. Of course they had to- Aizawa had just caught on first. There was the problem of that little oath they'd both sworn when they'd joined the force, to save lives when at all possible. Even the lives of the guilty. Even if it meant placing their own lives in danger. _If we live through this... _Well, he wouldn't leave the Kira task force. But he'd stick to deductive work thank you very much. He hadn't joined up to fight military hardware.

The noise of the collision exceeded all expectations. Though he had tried to make it gentle as possible, just to knock them off balance, the rear rotor still chopped up their skids into confetti and dented the canopy. The other copter was knocked left, nearly falling despite the best efforts of their pilot. Ide was plenty busy himself trying to stop the unstable machine from overcorrecting and slamming into the ground below. _We're going to need another copter from the government to replace this one. And __**I'm **__not going to be the one who flies it._

The opposing machine had just managed to re-stabilize itself when something else went wrong- the thing began to drift forward, past the wreckage it had created, past the knot of police cars... towards a power line.

"What are they doing?!", Ide exclaimed despite himself. He'd had more than enough insanity for one night. "Their target is right there in front of them!"

Then he felt his partner's hand on his shoulder, grim and understanding. "They had... other problems to attend to. Can you land this thing now?"

It finally hit him. "You threw that phone into the copter. You had it on video mode. That was...?!"

He nodded. "The pilot just died. It was the only way to stop them. Like you said, we were badly outgunned. If Duval died we'd lose our best lead in months."

"But Kira?!" He stared back, boring into the other man's eyes. What had they just done? Why?!

Those eyes radiated resolve. Resolve, and bitter reasoning. "L's caused deaths to further his case before, Ide. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Remember how it was we determined that the last rule in the back of Kira's original notebook was actually fake? L did it. He had a criminal scheduled for Death Row write the name of another such criminal in a torn-off piece of the notebook, without realizing what it was, then he delayed the sentence until we could test the theory. It's been over a month and he still hasn't died, even though the one had wrote down_ did _die. That rule was written to confuse us, and maybe elicit sympathy, make it look like Kira was a victim of the notebook. Some of the other ones might be fake as well."

Ide continued to stare, dark fire and ash reflecting off his retina. Like as not, he wasn't bringing this crate down until he knew his partner hadn't become as twisted as Kira in his quest for vengeance. "Lying down in bed with our enemy is not the way to catch him, sir. And you're_ not _L."

Aizawa sighed, head between his knees. "I know. I know it looks like I've crossed the line here. Maybe there's no going back for me. But... someone has to try. L saw it from the beginning. We're never going to be able to catch Kira unless we're willing to do whatever it takes. If it had even a miniscule percent chance of working, I might organize a fake-defector scheme to try and draw him out. And you can bet Kira would have that defector kill someone to prove his loyalty. What's a handful, compared to how many Kira has killed- and will _continue_to kill- unless he's stopped?! As to the current situation, we know that Bergan Duval is innocent, so it's worth it to save his life, and the life of officer Jirai Leshima. Right now, any sympathy the governments of the world might have had for Kira has flatlined. They're willing to excuse civilian deaths, provide us with whatever hardware or personnel we need. Once we find the impostor, things are going to go right back to the way they were. We might _never_ get another chance like this. Do you understand? Even a little?"

He hadn't broken eye contact the entire time, even once. Both men simply remained that way for several seconds until Ide broke the silence. "Light said we'd try to be _less_ confrontational than L. But what if we're wrong, boss? What if Kira really _is_omnipotent, and he'll kill us the moment we get close to discovering his true identity?"

His partner breathed out, now watching the fire trucks gouting water onto the burning police station serenely. "If that's the case, then this whole task force is useless, and Kira's victory is a foregone conclusion. But I don't believe that. If Kira was really _that _powerful, he wouldn't have asked us for help with this impostor killer. It's not even consistent with a bluff. All we know for sure is that he has at least one notebook like the kind we've got locked up, and he or she has the ability to possess people below a certain age, possibly connected to the use of the notebook. That's how he contacted me for an alliance, Ide. He possessed Misa Amane's body, said he had done the same with Light before. Not that I'd believe that without further proof, of course."

His partner gaped. "You're _sure_? Death from a magical notebook, and now possession? Man... what next?"

_This is way beyond very crazy..._

Aizawa smiled knowingly at his reflection in the window. Months ago, he would have considered either of these powers an impossibility. "Let's just say I'm strongly convinced that someone was controlling her. She had no sign of wires or microphones and she was talking in a completely different way from her usual. Either I'm right, or she's a much better actor than I know her to be. I was trained to detect signs of lying, remember?"

"That's right. All the same, I hope you know what we're getting into here."

"So do I, Ide. So do I."

-

**The conditions for death will not be realized unless it is physically possible for that human or it is reasonably assumed to be carried out by that human.**

**The specific scope of the condition for death is not known to the gods of death, either. So, you must examine and find out for yourself.**

**TBC**


	5. Part 5 Destruction

**Disc: Merry Christmas, I don't own Death Note.**

*** - Character speaking in English**

**-**

**Part 5: Destruction**

**-**

It was not until the morning of the next day that the national guard had made arrangements to transport 'Kira' to his holding cell at Kotobuki Maximum Security penetentiary, where the Japanese government had scheduled him to be held until a trial could be put together. Anyone who knew the incredible death toll the foreigner had left before his surrender also knew that there were dozens of obstacles that had to be cleared away before such a trial could take place, fore-mostly the other major nations of the world seeking to claim Kira's final fate for their own jurisdiction.

Aizawa had watched the convoy roll in through the city streets with a grim satisfaction. Though no precaution could be perfect with a traveller this badly wanted by so many criminal groups and agencies throughout the globe, the fact that they had brought armored vehicles showed that the military were not only supremely dedicated to ensuring there was no possible way barring the Wrath of God that could allow Bergan 'Kira' Duval to escape, but also knew that they would likely face at least one attack en route.

Traffic of any kind lay suspended all along the path, creating an eerie contrast with the dozens of skyscrapers, bleak sky and chilling wind as if Kira had suddenly murdered every person on that street, leaving it bare and silent as the grave. Or perhaps that the military convoy had finally come to impose martial law upon the country's growing storm of chaos, a dark vision of things to come if Kira continued his work, tanks cautiously rolling through empty intersections...

At the 'start point' at the entrance to the station Leshima had driven his charge to after escaping the 'Light' assault copter from last night, three soldiers wearing visors to conceal their faces were helping to wrangle Duval into a bulky blue APC, with at least twice that many city cops supervising them. Just like with Leshima's men, no singular individual could be trusted alone with the notorious killer. While Aizawa had taken great efforts to ensure he was going along for the ride, there were going to be at least two soldiers supervising them, and each other, at all times. Sharing what he knew with them would be regrettable, but probably unavoidable.

They had another tag-along as well- the aging constable Leshima, who had insisted on coming along in the lead vehicle to be sure. He would ride alongside the driver up front, acting as their early warning system in the event of an attack. Aizawa had been surprised at first, but then realized that Duval had very nearly been killed on the constable's watch. Leshima's superiors in the police department had to be questioning his competence. Not to mention his impartiality, as he had been virulently anti-Kira from the very beginning. Constable Leshima probably now considered it a point of honor to ensure nothing went wrong the rest of the way. Aizawa knew the feeling.

"Kira gave himself up for a reason", he had explained to everyone gruffly as they all got ready for what looked to be a short, but dangerous trip. "And it wasn't because the little punk felt guilty. Mark my words, he's up to something here. It's too easy."

He was right of course, but Aizawa could not specify exactly _what _Kira's master plan was, nor the fact that the man they had imprisoned was not the real thing. As to the rest of the ICPO, with their chopper trashed and Ide too shell-shocked from last night to fly they would have to remain at their new headquarters for the duration, most certainly watching whatever about twenty news networks could provide on the progress of the convoy. Ranikamil had wanted to come and help with the investigation, but getting even one agent on the vehicle was a stretch of their authority. The same applied to Light, no matter how much his presence would have helped clear things up. He was their best choice, and he had surmised as much to their team.

_Light. _The young man was more subdued these days, content to sit back and let his chest heal while the others worked the case, only occasionally dropping by to bring him up to speed on recent events. Perhaps the shootout had scared him, driven home the reality of a high-stakes police investigation after spending so long playing theoretical deductions games with L, distanced from any real action. A brilliant prodigy he might have been, but Soichiro Yagami's son was still a novice at the actual fieldwork, spoiled by L's massive legal clout in all corners of the world. _Which is why __**he **__was chosen to suceed L, for even the original was a cerebral powerhouse first and a fighter second... a few nifty capoeria moves aside._

Now they were opening the ramp for the other passengers to get on board. Inside, dull brown lights worked to compensate for the lack of windows in the vehicle anywhere but at the very top of the body. A thin glass pane divided Duval from the his observers while the drivers were separated from the main area by a thick hatch roughly a meter across. The two soldiers knelt to keep their rifles out of everyone's way, for there were no seats, only several lockers of equipment and uniforms. Aizawa sighed and settled on leaning against a wall once the engine fired up.

"Just to make sure", he called out to the two grunts. "You two are both aware that I'm operating under the highest international security levels, restricting the passing on of anything that passes between the prisoner and myself, correct?"

One of them, a short man with a stubbly chin, nodded and smiled in odd mirth for a soldier. "Yes sir, we know. Same for the driver. We'll just sing 'Caramelldansen' and try our hardest to forget what you say to him, or at least_ I _will."

He chuckled, glad to have someone break the tension that hung thick in the vehicle. "Good. But stay sharp all the same- you know this is going to be rough."

"It's always rough, sir. That's what these babies are built for." He hammered the metal fencing for emphasis, resulting in an unmusical echo.

"Right." _Just have to hope they'll be tough enough... _With that out of the way, he faced Duval with no trace of humor. The young man had not fared well in the chaos of last night even though he had survived it; his blond hair and pale skin were tinged with black ash. His dark business attire was torn and rumpled, and his left leg trailed from a possible limp.

*First*, Aizawa began, clearing his throat. *Let's get the obvious lies out of the way. You're NOT actually Kira, merely a loyal decoy.*

To their credit, he only heard one of the soldiers gasp in surprise, the other looking alarmed but staying silent. Duval on the other hand, coughed raggedly. *You _can't _possibly expect me to confirm that.*

*That's alright. See, I already know it's the truth. Next question. I also know Kira told you to pretend to be him and turn yourself in out of supposed guilt for the innocents that the impostor-Kira killed with gas bombs. I want to know why.*

*See above response, idiot.*

He had nerve, Aizawa would give him that. But even these responses hinted at a chink in his armor, as opposed to the complete silence of a Triad member or a Yotsuba flunky in the same position. All he had to do was find it. *Of course, you_ do _realize where your misplaced loyalty is going to get you, Mr. Duval. Kira cares nothing if you were to be locked up here in Kotobuki for the duration of your lifetime. As a member of the task force assigned to catching him, I've seen enough of his deceptions to know that he only cares for himself. No one else.*

Absolute silence from Duval. Outside, the APC bumped over a crossing. Aizawa set to pacing the small space, arms crossed behind his back.

*What he's _probably _told you is that this is all a plan of his to expose the impostor, so he can take him out. What you probably hadn't considered is that with you locked up, he doesn't _need_ to.*

That did it. The foreigner's strange green eyes widened and he looked up from the floor. *No. No way. He would never-.* He stopped a moment, and instead of continuing in English offered up a European-sounding curse that Aizawa was grateful he could not understand a word of. Progress.

*Oh, wouldn't he? All he has to do is not commit any more murders until the police track down the impostor. Which they can do, now that they know it's not the same Kira. You'll take the blame for all the criminals he's killed, locked away forever... assuming the United States or Russia doesn't win custody over you. They're both lobbying to have you executed as we speak, along with a bunch of smaller nations."

*He _wouldn't _give up on his dream.* His denial was sudden but now it lacked bite, more as though he was trying to convince himself of it.

*I'm sure he wouldn't. Like I said, he just has to wait until the gas bomb threat goes away. Then he can go back to killing criminals again. How exactly will the governments of the world take that news, I wonder?*

Duval blinked, comprehending. *Not well. And they'll consider me an accomplice.*

Aizawa nodded, for once revealing the pity he felt towards this poor misguided young man, and what he was letting himself in for if he didn't back out now. *Exactly. You think what I'm doing _now_ is harsh? They have interrogation techniques that are _banned_ here because they were too brutal. Interrogators that make me look like a cream puff. You'll feel like a train ran you over. _Every day_. All on Kira's order. And they'll _never_ stop, because you'll never be able to tell them what they want to know.*

*B-because*, Duval blurted, eyes facing the ceiling as if in prayer, *because I don't know who he is.*

*Have you ever heard of the Death Note, Mr. Duval?*

*No. What is it?*

More progress, but Aizawa frowned. This was _too _easy, almost as if Duval wanted to be tricked into confessing what he knew, as if he was deliberately leading his interrogator into the next step. _Careful. There's no telling what you're being led into where Kira's concerned. He may be in trouble now, but that won't stop him from setting hidden traps for the unwary even-_

The APC jerked, and he nearly hit his head. "Sorry about that", the speaker near the hatch crackled to life with Leshima's voice. "We seem to have hit a... snag."

He didn't like the sound of that. "What 'snag'?"

"Well there's a hundred, maybe two hundred people out here blocking the road holding signs. Our people are trying to disperse them but that could take a while. Our driver's going to try an alternate route."

*So that's what all that shouting was about*, Duval said, grinning coyly despite his situation. *Even now, they support God.*

*Because they don't want to be next on his list*, Aizawa rebuked the young man harshly. *That's the problem. You and Kira and the rest of them mistake fear of death for support. Don't you think he'd add you to his Death Note if he found out that his most loyal servant's been lying to him?*

*I didn't-* He caught himself, but the damage was done. Every sentence he uttered had set off Aizawa's inner phonograph. This man was lying through his teeth, and about more than one thing.

*Don't play with me. You're not Kira. In fact, you're not even Bergan Duval. That's an alias someone created about a year ago. I checked.*

Trying to shake him now that they'd stumbled into a new line of inquiry, 'Duval' shrugged. *I just wanted a name that would help me fit in here. You've seen how they treat me.*

*Then you failed miserably, because that's not a Japanese name*, Aizawa retorted, continuing to push him. *What's your true name, then?* Then, when he refused to talk about that: *I bet _Kira_ could find out. I hear one of his 'special' talents is being able to see people's true names by looking at their faces in person. He's killed lots of criminals who operate behind aliases; that didn't save them. Is that it, then? Are you a criminal trying to redeem yourself in Kira's eyes by helping him?*

*Shut up! Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!*

Aizawa stopped short, only now realizing they'd been yelling. Outside, the clamor was rising to levels where he'd pretty much have to in order to make himself heard. Instead, he made the sign for a momentary truce, that even the foreigner understood- they would take a break for now, but would resume the moment they were clear of the mobs.

As it turned out, he didn't get that chance. They could have been waiting as much as ten minutes before the yelling started to dim. Instead, it was Leshima's voice that came on loud and panicked. "Get clear! Get Duval out of there! There's a-"

Concussions threw Aizawa against a soldier, Duval against the gate. Peeking outside, he could see a column of smoke ahead where the lead vehicle of the convoy had been. The entire vehicle had been thrown front-end-over-chassis by the blast, now blocking the road more effectively than the mobs had been. The mobs which were now screaming not in outrage or excitement, but fear for their own lives.

_Not again!_ The chief inspector cursed. "We have to move. Now." The soldier he'd flattened nodded, took out a key to unlock the gate while the other one pushed the hatch open for them and stepped out-

More noise, a hard whizzing sound, and he fell against the hatch, perforated in a dozen different places. Aizawa had barely acknowledged the man's death when more whizzing started up from behind them and the entire vehicle sagged towards the rear. _No more explosions. That means they're trying to take Kira alive, whoever they are_, he reasoned bleakly.

There were a multitude of possibilities. Many nations previously had made perfectly clear their wish to end Kira's threat once and for all. Any criminal or corrupt official worth his hush money would put all of their efforts towards assassinating the man who had magically killed over half their numbers in Japan alone. Then there was the very real possibility that the impostor-Kira was throwing his own people into the mix as well, trying to destroy his rival. Still, no matter who it was attacking them, no matter if they were trying to take Kira alive so he could lead them to the Death Note, or dead to make absolutely sure he could never threaten them again, chances were good they wouldn't care how many of his protectors they had to kill in order to get at him. Behind them, a second explosion punctuated the point, accompanied by more fire from both the mysterious assault team and the military.

_Officer Leshima_, Aizawa thought grimly. He'd been in the vehicle directly ahead of them. Odds were good now that he was dead. But against all instinct, Aizawa knew he would best do his job by taking cover and protecting Duval. The surviving soldier's gaze reflected as much, and all three of them hunkered down in the overturned APC for what sounded like a small war blossoming outside.

-

"He shouldn't have gone", Ide berated himself angrily, "he should've left it to the military, he should've left this to them, should've... GODDAMN IT!"

No one in the ICPO lounge could move fast enough to stop his projectile, a moderately heavy paperweight, from impacting the TV showing them the scenes of chaos and death now erupting on the main street. The screen cracked, sputtered sparks for a moment, and then faded to black as someone disconnected it.

Leaning in his wheelchair to better hide his own anxiety, Light motioned for another monitor to be brought online, then turned to stop Ide running for the elevator. "You can't be serious. I know we're all worried about him, but throwing yourself into that war zone in a car isn't going to help anyone, Ide. They're using military-grade weapons out there; you heard the explosions."

At once, the long-haired agent looked more torn than Light could recall seeing him. "I _know_, Light. But we have to do something! Why the hell doesn't Kira just kill the guys attacking the convoy?! Aizawa's dealing with those maniacs on _his_ advice, after all."

_Because he can't see their faces, you emotional twit. _"Ide. Listen. I can't begin to guess what Kira's motives in this are, but I know that he was right that Duval needed protection from people who believed him to be the real Kira. Besides, I think the worst is over now. They had the element of suprise, but now they're up against a whole battalion. I don't think there's enough criminals left alive in Japan to fight that many trained soldiers right now." _And of course, there's my secret weapon out there too..._

While it was difficult to tell how true that was from the jittery camerawork of channel 6 news viewing a street halfway obscured by smoke, it was true that there were now two patterns of gunfire overlapping each other; signs that the soldiers were indeed fighting back as best they could.

"I can't believe it", Matsuda commented from behind Light, for once completely under gravity at the sight of a street they'd all walked and driven on being torn up by bullets and artillery. He wasn't even drinking from his Misa Amane coffee mug. "This is like something out of Somalia."

"He'll live", Light maintain, forcing a note of optimism into his tone. "Aizawa volunteered for this for a reason; because he's the most experienced one of us here. He won't be killed so easily." _Of course if he does, I'll at last be free of his annoying suspicion. If not, Bergan Duval will certainly survive the day. It's win-win._

Looking back at the task force's other members now from his motorized chair, he could not help but feel contempt for them. Small wonder the world had gotten to the point where criminals ruled Japan's streets and offices if these were the best people the law had on its side. Kanzo Mogi, dedicated and reserved, but driven by a fear of Kira's power so great that he barely said a word in meetings. It was sometimes possible to forget he was even there. Hideki Ide likewise, a man who believed it was possible to stop criminals without risking your own life, that actual gunfights or vehicle chases only happened in the movies. Touta Matsuda, a walking insult to the maturity of Light's age group in his fondness for watching supermodel Misa's less-garmented moments and lack of work ethic.

None of them had even an ounce of L's guile in them, nor the experience and fortitude to go into a gunfight like the one being broadcast now and not curl up into a ball of quivering fear. Granted, Light himself was still inexperienced in many aspects of hands-on police work too, but he was confident _he_could go out there and help Aizawa and Duval without being paralyzed. _They're all so weak, and their growing fear of the chaos happening now only makes them weaker. I guess it's really no surprise that Aizawa only trusted himself to play this part for Kira. He knows now that he's the __**second**__ smartest living person on the Task Force, and that he and I are the only ones smart enough to solve-_

_WAIT._

Light motored back behind the counter so no one could turn and see his face. Ide had told him in the hospital wing of what had happened during the initial assault on the police station, his concerns of what his partner was getting into both physically, and more importantly, ethically and mentally. No one else here was as determined as Inspector Aizawa to catch Kira, even willing as he was now to bring about the deaths of criminals to ensure success in a plan that only had a small chance of doing so. He knew now that he was the only one in the task force that could be truly depended on. _But does it stop there? Has he finally realized that the only way he'll ever pose a threat to me is to play by __**my **__rules?_

It sounded impossible when it had first crossed his mind. Aizawa was not L, after all. He was still too friendly and trusting of his friends and allies to ever be able to expose Light. His whole reason for being here was to protect his beloved family, unlike many of the others here who had few personal connections, no wives or families of their own. But the more Light thought, the more things made a twisted kind of sense. _Anyone in this task force can have unsupervised access to the police's chemisty labs by virtue of their authorization, or simply buy some of their own and find an uninterrupted workspace. Child's play for a high-ranking cop to secretly contact the remains of the criminal underworld and ask for their cooperation in such a scheme. __**Aizawa **__could have planted those 'Kira-bombs' beforehand, and worked later to ensure that we didn't catch him, just as I do with the Death Note. He was at Nejion's hideout on the first night, he could have left the detonated bomb there too if he wanted to._

If so... then what? All the reasons he'd given Ryuk for not killing him stood firm. One misplaced death could force five more.

The path was not clear. Either he'd unconsciously sought the dream-like state of mind that allowed him to see the phantom, or it had chosen that moment to occur. He again felt the aura of red clouding his eyes and minds, doubtless signifying the power he still held over all humanity. So long as he still had that, he had a chance to solve the puzzle and win the game.

And now the phantom was visible. Seemingly through sheer focus of will, he could now penetrate the darkness, just barely make out the shape beyond it... that was _still_ smiling. _What's he so happy about? Can't he see that I'm closing in on him?_

The shape was small and short. Smaller than any adult, in fact. Striving past the fog of anonymity, he could glimpse sandy, dark-brown hair, a thin face and a plain, baggy white shirt with no markings. Disturbingly innocent eyes for a mass-murder. The body... of a teenager? _Not Aizawa? I don't recognize him. This is going to make things more difficult, but at least I know what the impostor looks like now._

The conundrum was forgotten for the moment when Ranikamil- another ICPO member too afraid to make the necessary sacrifices- burst in through the elevator doors, his eyes panicked and his hair a mess. "We need to-"

"Calm down, Ran-Ran", Matsuda broke in. "We already know what's going on out on main street. There's just not a lot we can do about it."

"That's not it", the young man said, fighting hyperventilation all the while. He must have been running the whole way to the elevator from the way his heart was pounding. "I-I-I-I made a gaschromatograph for the chemical mix. I found out who's been making the Kira Bombs!"

Wide eyes all around. Light was the first to recover. "Who?" _Aizawa? Has he truly gone over the edge? That smiling, brown-haired teen I saw? How could a boy even younger than me be so merciless, so powerful? How could you possibly know who it is, fool? Speak!_

Finally catching his breath, the forensic analyst fixed each member with a deadly-serious glare that was out-of-place on his face. "Jirai Leshima."

-

Teru Mikami was a very happy man now. Granted, not very many people stranded in the middle of the main street war zone could consider themselves in a situation conductive to happiness, but still he smiled crazily as he looked down from the relative safety of a eight-story mall rooftop. The time and place didn't matter. What was important was that God had entrusted him with a sacred duty. Something important. Something that could not fail.

It _would _not fail if he had a single syllable to say about it. More than responsibility, God had given him the power to ensure he would succeed. A tall man only recently freed of the constraints of adolescence, Teru Mikami had believed in God's dream of a Perfect World even before he had been discreetly contacted for a test of loyalty, which he had passed without a second's hesitation. While there was no way to know for sure, he would wager years of the modest salary he'd earned as a lawyer that he was Kira's most dedicated servant, more fanatical to the cause than any other person.

That loyalty had at last been rewarded, even if he had never expected such a thing for working towards something he'd always dreamed of since preschool. Spread before him near the rooftop's edge was a telescope he'd been instructed to bring, and a plain black notebook on a fold-out table, which he had been directed to find in an abandoned warehouse several days prior. God had contacted him again, explained its purpose. Explained unnecessarily, for he had already seen the writing within it.

This notebook was _God's_own divine weapon. It would kill whoever's name was written in it. There were already thousands of guilty people written in there. And now, it was in Mikami's hands to use as God directed. There would be more added. There would be many more _deleted _by this weapon. He would see to it. He _was_ seeing to it.

For eight stories below him now were men and women who practically begged for death. Attacking from darkened alleys and stolen vehicles, the enemies of God had flocked to the decoy like moths to a flame, shooting at the men who had been assigned to guard it. With the weaponry and advantageous cover they possessed, any soldier who wanted to strike back with bullets of their own risked being eviscerated twelve different ways. While the surviving three army vehicles remained intact so far and had driven off another helicopter the enemies of God had brought, it was clear that they had now been trapped in the crossfire.

It was time to change that.

The snipers would be the first to go. Searching along the other side of the street, Mikami spotted two of them perched on lower buildings, absorbed in their grisly work. One had destroyed the lead vehicle with an RPG early on, and was now picking off survivors as they tried to escape the burning wreck of a tank, while the other one was trying to hit an overturned vehicle's fuel tank with incendiary bullets.

Mikami checked the faces, checked the numbers and letters that were conveniently floating over their heads like luminescent red chains only he could see. Toume Kinago and Nanzori Hyuga were their names, both slated to die on December 21st, 2056... for the moment. Putting down the scope and feeling a bit like a God himself, Mikami lifted his pen to the book's pages.

"Delete."

He didn't have to specify cause or date. Conveniently enough when he'd tested it out, the book automatically made a heart attack the default fate of the person written in it, and it took the minimum time of forty seconds. In forty seconds, Toume Kinago _would_ die. There could be no stopping it now even if he'd wanted.

"Delete."

Now, Nanzori Hyuga would share his fate. They would both choke and fall from the rooftops even as their hearts gave out. Searching the other side, he spotted two more. Uchide Satsuya and... Boris Schnieder?

That wasn't a Japanese name. The bearded man was a well-known fugitive killer. _Truly, all the evil criminals of this world would sieze this chance to kill God if they could get to Japan today. Fools! Don't they know it's impossible? It doesn't matter what nationality or cause they're under. They're all the same in death!_

"Delete."

Sooner or later, the other hoodlums on the ground would figure out that something was wrong. Were they being sniped? How could the sniper kill without any sign of a bullet?

"Delete!"

Now there were a bunch on the ground, of a dozen nationalities and criminal syndicates, using cars for cover as they advanced on the immobilized APC they believed to contain God. The soldiers had killed a few of them, but not quite enough. Mikami would fix that.

"Delete. Delete. ...!"

How could the sniper be so quick and accurate? How could he strike from a building so tall that they couldn't even see him? How could he penetrate reinforced kevlar body armor on a moving target?

He had the only answer they would ever need for the rest of their lives.

_"DELEEEETE!"_

Minutes and dozens of names later, he was searching in vain. Any survivors of the huge combined-arms group that had tried to assassinate 'Kira' had caught on and quietly melted back into the shadows to attack from where even Mikami could not see them. The rest lay strewn about the war-torn street with flat pulses and blank eyes. No sign of any bullets on their bodies.

Teru Mikami felt great. His entire previous life as the only truly good man in an entire world of corruption at last seemed adequate as payment for the satisfaction of seeing _dozens_ of evil men and women drop dead before him. Beneath him. Deleted. Forever. _I will __**never **__get tired of this!_

He must not forget himself, he remembered staunchly. "God gave me these powers. I must only use them to kill those he decreed to be deserving of death." That was how this was supposed to work, after all. Not even _this_wretched world was 100 percent corrupt, only 99; he and Kira's human vessel, Light Yagami, were proof enough of that. The fact that another criminal had tried to tarnish Kira's reputation with indiscriminate chemical weapons made Mikami wish to the heavens that he knew who it was who had done that. He could think of a million agonizing fates in a microsecond and none painful enough to be suitable punishment.

_Now, now,_ he chided himself ecstatically, smiling. _We mustn't spurn the power that God has generously granted us just because it has a few limitations. It is enough for this task._

Down below, a soldier in the rear vehicle was poking his head out, at once amazed by the sudden death of the majority of their assailants. Others followed suit, poking their enemies' bodies, saving their wounded, scarcely believing their luck. Even if they had made the leap of logic that Kira had been the one to save them, the question still remained as to _why_ He would when they supposedly had him under lock and key. They had arrested Him, imprisoned the one being who could save this world from corruption due to their own cowardice and lack of morality...!

Decision made, he watched and waited for one soldier missing his concealing helmet to break cover, a wary smile on his face. Had they just witnessed a miracle?

"Delete."

2nd rank Private Hwang Shuniji was doomed. In forty seconds, not the twelve years he was supposed to have left to him, he would fall over, causing the other soldiers to look around for a new sniper, moments before a second death removed all doubt as to who was targeting them now.

"Delete."

Three more down, but inwardly Mikami frowned. He should've waited until they were all out, written them all at once. As things stood, running back and hiding in their vehicles as they had been doing before was hiding them from his practiced Shinigami's eyes. He could wait. He had time, but hindsight still niggled at him.

"Delete."

Or was it hindsight? There was something not quite right about this whole scene. A niggling sense of danger. Was there a sniper he'd missed? A criminal he'd neglected to punish? _No_, he admonished. _Hesitating now would be to insult God who gave me this miraculous power. I must simply wait them out. Boredom is a small price to pay for justice._

"Fine. Hide away in your little tin toys, cowards. But the moment you come out... DELETE!"

Then, a voice behind him. Strong, male, and channeling fury. A cop? "I think that's quite enough killing out of you, _boy_."

He didn't even have time to turn around before the man struck. Agony filled every inch of his body to the point where could not tell where he'd been hit as he pitched towards the railing, toppling the table, dropping the telescope, hearing it shatter...

Any hopes he might have had of regaining balance were dashed with the second hit, this time to the gut. He doubled over, pain overriding even the fiercest rage he could muster towards this man assaulting him. Meanwhile, the punch had turned into a grapple, pinning and lifting him over the edge of the building by the lapel of his coat. Lifting and walking. Walking, and releasing.

Teru Mikami felt nothing at all.

-

**The human who uses this note can neither go to Heaven nor Hell.**

**TBC**


	6. Part 6 Illusion

**Disc: I don't own Death Note.**

*** * ***

**Part 6: Illusion**

*** * ***

No one had tried to stop any of the ICPO task force from entering the wreck that had once been a police station. In fact, only the few members of a disaster control team were even present, the majority of them off battling the real hot spot several kilometers further north. Without further preamble, Light divided them into two teams; one to search the ruined building for evidence, the other to track down the suspect. No one bothered arguing the idea that Leshima might not have survived the attack; if Sugarne Ranikamil was correct, the cop-gone-bomber would be far too clever to let himself get blown up in what everyone knew would likely be a desperate assault on Kira. Matsuda, Dr. Rugikiel and Ide drove off towards the pillars of smoke, while Light, Mogi and Ranikamil left the other car parked near the fire brigade truck.

"One of the chief ingredients in the bombs was CH3-O", young Ranikamil was explaining breathlessly as Mogi pried open a broken door. "While it's been smuggled before, the only reliable place to get large amounts of it would be a police forensics lab, since it's primarily used to help burn away blood or other liquids from a surface without damaging the fingerprints. The resulting vapor is colorless; undetectable until you smell it."

"But what made you think it was this one?", Light asked, for once genuinely interested in the task at hand. Chemistry had never been his forte, but it was good to see the kid carting his wheelchair across the debris wasn't a waste of space after all. For once, his new world hinged on the ICPO's ability as a detective agency. It was an odd realization.

"I didn't", Rani replied, "I checked the stockpile of each one in the country, personally. None of them were missing more than 10 centigrams of the stuff... except for this one. It was down to just a few dozen grams, and several of the other chemicals were seriously short as well. It's also one of the only two labs that is in the same structure as a police station."

"Hm", Mogi grunted curiously as Rani helped him pry another door aside that had been knocked off its frame by the blast- even now, Light could make out the huge hole in the ceiling that had once been several rooms including the temporary holding cells they'd kept Duval in. Thankfully, the forensics lab had been located at the other end- layers of dust and shattered windows were the only signs of damage here. "So you think he built those bombs after hours? Just to try and draw out Kira?"

"Not think", the kid corrected staunchly as they beheld the empty tables of the lab, the various bits of equipment still locked in the wooden cupboards, totally safe from the attack. "Of course, I knew that the lab's video surveillance would be too easy to fake for a high-ranking officer. I checked out both the prints on the table and the equipment. 77 percent of the prints in the room were Leshima's."

Light sniffed the air suspicously. There was no trace of the dangerous chemical mixtures left, but since it had been days since the lab had even been used that meant nothing, really. "That's not conclusive. Leshima is the chief of this district. It makes sense for him to want to peer in on any major cases, particularly since he does have a background in it of his own. Three years with a science major before he went into criminology."

Looking up from a cupboard, Rani smiled knowingly. "I know that. So I checked the attendance records- it said he's only been in 6 times in the last 4 months. Their forensic experts however, have been in at least 20 times. It's been a slow season for them, no doubt thanks to Kira stopping so many conventional murders, but there you have it. Coupled with his history of arresting outspoken Kira supporters on principle, I'd stake my position with this team on it."

_Fair enough_, Light acknowledged. _But this is still too easy. The phantom we've been dealing with is too smart to be caught so simply... unless he wanted to be caught? _"Well done. I doubt I would have been able to piece together the evidence like that when I was your age."

He didn't mean it, but the compliment still made Ranikamil reach up to scratch the back of his head, blushing in childlike embarrassment. "Aw, shucks. You're just saying that, Mr. Yagami. I'm sure if you had ICPO clearance, you could have done the same."

"Maybe. Did they give you any trouble about checking the labs because you looked too young to be with Interpol?"

"Lots. But I managed."

"I get that a lot myself, Rani. Damned idiots think you have to have be balding with facial hair before you can work with the police."

"A-hem." Both of them faced Mogi, taking a second to realize he wasn't mad about the stereotype, but had found something while sifting through the rest of the intact station rooms. He held up a cardboard box, roughly 2 feet wide and long. As he turned it over, dozens of smaller containers spilled out onto the floor.

Light's pulse froze. He'd seen those containers before. Always burnt and branded with Kira's name. "Where did you find these? Leshima's office?"

Mogi faced him disparagingly. "Too easy. There was a hidden compartment behind the shelves in the stock room that the blast jarred open. Seeing as the rest of that room was filled to bursting, I'm guessing this was something he wanted to keep away from his men."

"I'd say so. Was there anything else in there?"

"Just this." Now he handed Light a ragged slip of paper, riddled with the wear and tear of being kept in a space the janitor never reached. Despite a patchwork of ink stains, Leshima's handwriting was all too legible.

Light leaned back and closed his eyes. "Damnit. Still one step ahead."

*** * ***

Officer Jirai Leshima had spent over a decade with the police force. Among many other things, this had taught him that no object, no matter how innocous, could be taken for granted. This was what caused him to exercise all prudent caution even on a ten-story rooftop nobody else was on. This was what had led him there, after he'd seen snipers falling dead from their perches without any sign of a gunshot after he'd ditched the others. This was what made him hesitate as he examined the opening pages of the strange black notebook the deranged man had been writing in before Leshima had thrown him from the roof.

_DEATHNOTE_, the book's cover ominously proclaimed in scribbled white lettering. Inside, a similar font had been used to outline what he presume to be a sort of preface, for it was not used in the majority of the pages. _The person who's name is written in this notebook will die. When a name is written, a cause of death must be included within forty seconds, otherwise the victim will simply die of a heart attack- __**What the hell kind of sick joke is this?!**_

This couldn't be real. He had finally gone mad. Throwing the instructions aside as through they were poison, he examined the other pages next. Names. Lists of tens of thousands of names. There they were, in neat, orderly rows, every one of them, innocent or guilty, a recorded victim of Kira's unexplainable powers. Unexplainable, that is, until now.

_Is this all some big hoax? But how could he know I'd find this? _The obvious answer was there in front of him, and the more he resisted it, tried to deny it as mere coincidence, the more it made perfect sense.

This was Kira's weapon. Somehow, this simple little notebook could kill whoever's name was written in it. Ergo, the person he'd just sent to his death was either Kira himself or one of the rabid fans that never failed to grind Leshima's nerves, acting on his orders. Ergo, the threat of Kira was effectively over.

Ergo, he'd just had victory delivered to him on a silver platter, not knowing what to do with it.

_No. _His instincts reeled him out of euphoria. There were many other possibilities here that did not involve a magical notebook out of a children's story. This could have been only a listing of Kira's victims, someone playing a prank to make his powers seem more surreal. _Too easy. For weeks, months, __**years**__ I've tried to catch him in vain, done everything I could to stop people from abandoning their faith in the government for faith in Kira. Now he shows his ugly mug on a rooftop where anyone could just walk up and take him out?_

There had to be a different explanation. Somewhere in this notebook there would be a telltale sign of what its true purpose was, some sign of who had written it, and why. There would be plenty of time for him to go over the 'rules' and the list of names later in the comfort of his own home, over a hot cup of tea. That is, after he'd finished tying up a couple of other loose-

**Watch out.**

The voice had been sudden and sinister, but instinct kept him from asking dumb questions- if such a magical notebook could possibly exist, a voice in his head was the tip of the iceberg by comparison. Nonetheless, he continued to watch the roof's edge for something strange... and was almost immediately sorry he had.

_Nightmare. It has to be. _Flying up and over the railing was the brown-haired young man he'd thrown mere minutes earlier. Disheveled hair and clothes, but very much alive! Alive, and capable of flight. Alive, and glaring at his attacker with angry red eyes that could not possibly have belonged to anything human.

This one's voice was no slouch in the demonic category either as he dodged- yes, _dodged_- a shot from Leshima's service revolver. "Give me the notebook."

_I'm in a sci-fi movie. I'm in a Satanic film. I'm seeing a brown-haired demon-man __**survive a ten-story drop by flying back up to the roof and dodging my bullets**__. _He'd figure out what kind of illegal drugs someone had snuck into his coffee tomorrow. Right now, the important thing was getting away from the craziness. Out of bullets, he dashed for the stairwell.

"Give me the notebook!"

Behind him, the demon-man burst through a locked door, disabusing Leshima of any notion of fighting his pursuer hand-to-hand. Knowing that the open space the building's stairwell was just wide enough for a person to fly through, he immediately darted through the first door on his left and locked it before sprinting down the hall to the elevator. He hadn't paid much attention on the way up, but it looked to be some kind of hotel by the furnishings and structure.

**Not fast enough. Try the windows. He's coming.**

Mr. Inner Voice was right. The elevator was on the first floor, slowly ascending up to him. Granted, the process of finding an unlocked door and tying together a sheet rope was longer still, but it bought him precious time. Even as Leshima scoured the room he'd busted his way into for anything that could help him get out the window and down the back wall without losing a few crucial bones, he could hear the sounds of the flying demon-man tearing the elevator from it's housing, flying down the ten-story shaft, and then coming back up to search each identical suite at full volume:

"GIVE ME THE NOTEBOOK!"

Give him the notebook. What a splendid idea. He'd been running in abject terror this whole time, unable to even remember that he'd had it on him. _And yet_, he reminded himself as he braced against the outside ledge. _He wouldn't be trying to get it back if it wasn't important. If this wasn't already an insane cocoa fantasy land I'd lay even money the first thing he'd do is write my name in it when he got it back... And then say 'Delete'. _When sneaking up on the man, he'd seen enough to realize that he was crazy even without the demon eyes and flying. Maybe this notebook only did what it said it did in that killer's warped mind, but until he'd examined it closer he couldn't take that chance. He leapt clear.

CRASSH!

**Open that window, but swing down to a different floor. Hurry!**

Not what he'd had in mind, but it was a good idea. At this rate, he'd be lucky to even make it halfway down the building. Already, the strain such a position placed on his aging muscles was beginning to tell. He could feel his arms going numb, his head swimming from the sight of the streets so far below. He was pretty sure _he _wouldn't be able to fly back up if he fell. He'd seen the results numerous times when someone leapt from a building this tall in a quest to end their own lives, and it was never pretty.

The eighth floor was no different from the tenth. Encouraged, he'd barely gotten out into the hallway when everything went to hell. A deafening crash shook the ceiling above, and a second one caved it in to let the demon-man glide down into the hallway before him, one arm outstretched expectantly.

"Now. Give me the notebook."

**Foolish human. I'll have to take care of this myself.**

Desperation fueled inspiration. Seeing no other choice, he whipped the thing out of his jacket pocket in one hand, and pointed his weapon with the other. "Back off, you maniac. Or we'll see just how well your little pocketbook works with a hole through it."

This brought the red-eyed man up short for only a moment. Then he threw back his mop of hair and laughed gleefully. "Didn't you read it, buddy? If the notebook gets destroyed or made unusable, everyone who has ever touched it will die. That would end all my fun. So... Please don't."

He tightened the trigger to stop the demon-man's laughter. "Convenient. I'm prepared to die to put an end to Kira. Are you?"

Silence from red eyes as he packed up several paces. One way or another, he didn't want this notebook destroyed. "Take a look, buddy. It's in there, all right."

Leshima considered the pistol, and then the notebook he held. He snorted. "No thanks. I don't read well at all when I'm being threatened by a flying demon-man. But don't worry; I _will_ look at it. I'll use it to end you _and_ your master. I'll be the savior of this world."

"I've never been too fond of saviors." Demon-man snarled and charged, prompting Leshima to carry his bluff all the way. The hammer clicked... on nothing. His attacker was brought up short again, disbelief giving way to wry amusement. "Out of bullets- heheheheh. Nice trick there, human. You're a clever one, making those bombs and everything. Maybe in another time, we could have been friends. Heheheh."

No refuge left, the cop who had faced down gun-toting hoodlums knelt down, cringing, and awaited the demon's death blow. He was not wholly disappointed when it failed to come. In its place, another crash sounded out, caused by whatever had hammered the demon-man into the wall, caving a hole through it. What had caused it? Leshima couldn't see anyone, much less someone strong enough to perform such a charge out of nowhere. All he could see was the red-eyed man, shaken but alive, standing back up amid several destroyed wooden beams. Staring at thin air instead of Leshima.

"You? What are you doing here?"

He'd heard enough craziness. Without looking back, he snatched the notebook from where he'd dropped it on the floor and sprinted for the stairwell, the sounds of further fisticuffs against an invisible foe no longer his concern.

* * *

Chief Inspector Aizawa awoke feeling as though he were swimming. It struck him as an odd contrast, considering that he could see plain as day the only water around was the bucket his legs were submerged in.

When had they been submerged in water? He couldn't tell. He'd felt nothing ever since Duval had sucker punched him-

_Right. _Duval. And Light and Leshima and Ide and L and Kira. He remembered now. Everything.

As if reflecting his memory, a long panel behind him opened, piercing the previously dark room with artificial light. Struggling against his bonds, he quickly found that the ropes had but a single metal joint at his wrists, making them impossible to open without a key. The rope was pulled taut, just long enough to keep his lower calves in the water and the rest of him hung suspended over the bucket. Someone had also removed everything but his underclothes from him, a common enough tactic for interrogations to increase the subject's feelings of vulnerability, though not one normally endorsed by Interpol. Somehow, he got the feeling the folks behind this weren't concerned with what Interpol thought went against the grain though.

"You magnificent _bastard_", someone called in disgust from behind him. "Two years, thousands of deaths, and you don't even tell us what we're really dealing with. I guess that's just how Interpol does business, eh? Never let the little people know what's going on."

Much as he tried to twist around, the rope kept snapping him back into place. He couldn't see who was talking, but the man's gravelly voice was clue enough. "Leshima?"

"In person, Inspector Aizawa. Don't worry; I didn't have anything to do with your current arrangements, though I bet some of the dick-pullers at Sakura TV would pay to see you strung up like this."

Why was he so angry? If anything, Aizawa deserved to be the angry one. He'd trusted both Duval and officer Leshima, and they had both betrayed him. "You call _me_ a bastard?"

A sharp electronic tone came up from behind him and suddenly his nerves burned with anguish. He bit down on the scream, figuring out that it was some kind of electric shock by the way the pain had started in his legs before spreading to the rest of him.

"Oh, I'd call you a lot worse things than that my friend, but I only have so much time to spare. Just admit it. For the record."

Aizawa cursed under his breath. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

The tone sounded for a second time, and again his frame surged with painful shocks. "That was the lowest setting, inspector. Don't bother looking for a circle button. Maybe if I help refresh your memory- did you or did you not know that Kira had otherworldly powers on his side?"

He gasped in relief. For a moment he'd figured Leshima had mistakenly identified him as either Kira, or the fake Kira. "We did, though not until last year. It was under L's instructions that we not inform the police, or anyone outside of the task force about what we were up against."

"The famous L", Leshima scoffed. "Even more pigheaded and arrogant than Interpol. But L's not around to stop you now. Spill. Is the Death Note real?"

Aizawa hesitated. Resisting this interrogation would be the most excruciatingly painful thing he'd ever done, but he was fairly confident he could do it if it was crucial that he do so. Even with his mind still fuzzy from two surges of electricity, he could triangulate that officer Leshima- and whoever was backing him- were trying to learn the secrets of the Death Note, most likely in order to defeat Kira. Even in this alliance of convenience, he had not lost sight of the real objective here. Anything that brought more pressure on Kira could only help his overall objective.

And what would Kira say about it? 'You should have taken the pain and told them nothing'? Easy for him to say. _Sorry, Kira... But you're the one who sought out this unlikely alliance._

"...It's real, all right. Anyone who's name is written in that notebook dies according to how their fate is written."

"What about the demon?"

"Demon?"

Another small shock to the legs had him thinking faster. "You must mean the Shinigami. Only the rightful owner of the notebook, or someone who's directly touching it, can see them."

"How did you learn all this, inspector?"

He took a deep breath. It seemed impossible that it had been nearly an entire year since L had died. Time had flown by so quickly... "You got a notepad?"

More shocks answered him, more painful than the ones before. "Talk."

Fine. "L was able to catch the notebook's user, Kyoske Higuchi, and we confiscated his notebook. By touching it, we could communicate with the Shinigami named Rem, who was its original owner. Higuchi himself confirmed the primary rules of the Death Note before he died."

"But Kira is still active."

"Yes. There was more than one Death Note, and more than one Kira. We were closing on a second one when L and his contact, Watari, both died, and the Shinigami turned into a pile of dust- ARGH!"

The shocks continued on for several more agonizing seconds, and when they finally subsided he was in a vile mood. "What the hell was that for?! I'm telling you what you want to know!"

Momentarily absolved of his own rage towards his ICPO counterpart, Leshima shrugged. "Sorry. Not my hand on the button. So Kira killed them. What about the second notebook? Does it work the same way as the first?"

Aizawa coughed, feeling blood rising up in his throat. "It would have to. Less than three days after L died, Kira set a new record for criminals killed in a single day, even though we had the first notebook under lock and key. It's possible there's a third notebook or more, but we've encountered no sign of any more than two of them... Thankfully."

"Thankfully", Leshima echoed. "That will be all for now, inspector. I don't know if I can forgive you for keeping all this from the police, but now I understand why you did."

"Well good", Aizawa retorted, mustering what strength he had left for a defiant shout. "All you have to do now is get me to forgive you for _betraying your outfit and GAS BOMBING INNOCENT PEOPLE and we can go on a goddamn picnic!!"_

Leshima did not confirm or deny his claim, only raised the window panel back into place, leaving Aizawa once again in darkness.

* * *

So. The truth at last. It was both in relief and dread that Jirai Leshima picked up the notebook he'd procured mere hours before, staring at its covers as if it was the key to the universe itself. Behind him, his own tormentor rose, still wearing his face-concealing mask even in the presence of the one who knew him for what he truly was.

"That's all we needed to know. Good work, officer."

The ice-cold tones of the other man didn't scare him anymore. He laid the book flat on a table. "If you expect me to kill him now, you'll have to do it yourself. I'll have no part in the death of such a brave man."

His strange ally shook his head. "Kill him? No no no no, we want the Chief Inspector alive and well for the endgame. All that remains now is to use Kira's own weapon to end him, once and for all."

Leshima blinked in confusion. "How? We still don't know who he is."

"Au contraire. I know for a fact that he is among the ranks of the ICPO. All you have to do is write down each of the names I give you- all of the ICPO staff, except for Aizawa."

"How-?" he stopped himself. The man who'd made him do all of this wasn't in the habit of sharing information he didn't need to know. To his suprise, he elaborated in a different direction: "When you write down the names, the entire task force except for the Chief Inspector will all die, including the real Kira. After that, we let Aizawa go, and make it look like it was a mistake on our part that allowed him to escape. Meanwhile, you will plant the Death Note in his apartment- don't worry, it doesn't carry fingerprints- and then you'll accuse him of killing his partners; of being Kira all along. The governments of this world will have their scapegoat, and there will be no more killings. I presume I can trust you to act your part believably, officer?"

Leshima gulped down bile, slowly grasping the ghastly plan to frame their captive. He would have liked to believe that he did this solely because it would also eliminate Kira, that if the plan didn't accomplish that he would have refused and let the man kill him. But the truth remained that for what was at stake here, he would have written down the names of every officer in the Japanese police force ten times over. There was no other choice. "A-alright."

The masked man tossed a pen towards him, slowly spinning end-over-end to be caught in his left hand. "Let us begin, then. I must insist that you do the writing, Mr. Leshima. Make sure to write down various causes and times of death tomorrow for each of them to deflect suspicion until it's time to finger the Chief Inspector. First, Hideki Ide."

Leshima glanced sickly outside the room's bank of windows, idly wondering if the man's words had somehow carried through the sound-buffering to reach a newly-thrashing Aizawa. Trying to ignore it, he began to write. _On June 23rd 9:00am, Hideki Ide will die by falling off a building._

"Next up is Kanzo Mogi."

_June 23rd 9:30am, Kanzo Mogi will die in a fatal traffic accident._

"Doctor Jinzash Ruiki. You don't need to write his honorary."

_June 23rd 10:00am, Jinzash Ruiki will die after stumbling into a nest of fever wasps. _Those things were prevalent around this time of year, always usually harming several people every summer, occasionally resulting in a fatality. No one would think it odd. Tragic, but not odd.

"Ah, Light Yagami... But put him at the end of the day. I want him to die last."

_June 23rd 12:00pm, Light Yagami will die..._

He looked up. "I'm out of ideas. Sorry, I'm not a psychopath like you."

The masked man sighed in reptilian vexation. "Very well. Give him the heart attack. Haha- That is, assuming he doesn't have one early after he realizes what's going on."

_On June 23rd 12:00pm, Light Yagami will die quietly from a heart attack._

"Sugarne Ranikamil. Struck by-"

"I've got this one", Leshima cut in. "I'll have the next one after that get struck by lightning."

Annoyed by his quibbling, the masked man threw up his hands, turning around. "Whatever. Just make sure you do it."

_June 23rd 11:00am, Sugarne Ranikamil will die trying to save his friend Aizawa from a criminal hideout in the Murasaki district at number 14 on Roper street. I just hope that does it. Sorry, kid. I have no choice. At least this way, your deaths won't be completely in vain. _The thought of that cute-faced kid being doomed like this was almost too much to bear, but he stood his ground. _God forgive me._

"Are you done?"

"Yes", he answered, praying that fate hadn't been seen. "Next?"

"Ryuzaki Lawliet. Struck by lightning..."

His co-murderer continued speaking for a very long while.

*** * ***

**If a human uses the note, a Death God usually appears in front of him or her within 39 days after he or she uses the note**


End file.
